What is Normal?
by crypticxmetaphor
Summary: Tara Moss and Elliot Alderson have a connection words can't define. Through their struggles they become closer than he could ever be to Angela. *Told through their alternating view points.
1. Prologue- Tara

It was awkward. And trust me, I'm an awkward person; I know awkward. Elliot and I sat on Ange's couch, opposite ends, of course. The apartment was small, but it did have two bedrooms, even if the spare room I've been staying in is basically a closet. The couch was gray and old, but I spent many afternoons, evenings, nights, on it. Elliot and I were watching her argue with her boyfriend, Ollie. They were speaking in hushed tones that I think were meant to be whispers, although we could still hear them clearly. They were only feet away. The kitchenette was basically part of the living room. I felt like a little kid whose parents were getting divorced and they thought I was too young to notice or understand.

"It's been over a month since we've actually been out," Ollie complained.

"I know, don't you think I know," Ange whisper-yelled back. "But I can't exactly leave her alone right now."

I swear she glanced to the kitchen knives.

My sister had a gift for making me feel like a burden. I glanced sideways at Elliot. He hadn't moved, he wasn't even blinking.

"I'll stay with her," he spoke, shutting the couple up immediately.

"What?" Ange asked to make sure she had heard him correctly.

"You two go out, I'll hang here with Tara," he clarified.

1010011010

When Ollie and Ange had left, Elliot and I were left in silence except for the TV which continued to drone on about the latest and greatest. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence; it just was. He was my only friend and I was his only friend except for Ange; Ange had always been his best friend. I wanted to ask if he was alright, if he still thought he was being followed, but I didn't. Instead I went to the spare room to get the book I was reading and returned to the couch, sitting closer to him than I was before. He watched as I sat down and looked at the book I was reading, than back at the TV. While I was gone, he had put one of the Star Wars movies on.

"I'm sorry," I told him when the movie ended and he put in the sequel. "I'm sorry you got roped into babysitting."

"You shouldn't have to be alone," he shrugged.

I liked the way he said it. Like I wasn't going to try to kill myself again if I'm left with the kitchen knives, but I might like some company anyway.

He ended up falling asleep before his movie was over. I put in the third one anyway; I didn't like it when things went unfinished. It was close to three when I passed out. I knew Ange wasn't coming back tonight. I knew that when she left she was going back to Ollie's to bang him. When I woke up, Elliot's arm was around me and Ange still wasn't home; she would have woken us up if she was. My face was pressed against Elliot's black hoodie and I hoped I hadn't been drooling.

"Coffee?" I mumbled.

"Yea, coffee sounds good."


	2. Prologue- Elliot

Tara sat on the other end of Anges's couch. I couldn't help but feel bad for her. The way she watched her sister and Ollie argue about her, I thought she was going to be sick. I'm not good at taking care of people. Ange was by best friend, but she needed to be more supportive; the poor girl tried to kill herself only a few months ago.

"It's been over a month since we've actually been out," Ollie was trying to be quiet and failing miserably; he couldn't even do that right.

"I know, don't you think I know," Ange told him. "But I can't exactly leave her alone right now."

Her. Tara, the suicidal, depressive, bipolar younger sister of my best friend who also had a crippling anxiety disorder and was a recovering alcoholic. The girl was on five different medications including Lithium and still liked to get high. We shared a proclivity for morphine and weed. She was seeing a psychiatrist called Doug Underwood. He was an idiot, but I couldn't tell her to change doctors without letting on that I cyberstalked her, her sister, and basically everyone I've ever met.

"I'll stay with her," I offered, hoping if Ange got to go out, she might unwind a bit.

"What?" Ange stopped arguing with her boyfriend, another idiot, and turned to me.

"You two go out, I'll hang here with Tara."

1010011010

The TV remained on after Ange and Ollie left although neither Tara nor I was watching it. She was reading Dorian Gray. Again. When she went to get her book, I moved to put on a movie, choosing the original Star Wars. When we had returned to our seats, they were not our seats. A good deal of space between us had disappeared. After the movie ended, I automatically stood up to switch the DVD to the second movie.

"I'm sorry," she told me from the couch as I messed with the device. "I'm sorry you got roped into babysitting."

Of course I was going to look out for her, she made up one half of my total friends. "You shouldn't have to be alone," I responded.

Lethargy came over me while Luke screamed into the void after finding out the truth about his father. Before I knew it, my eyes were closing. I woke in the middle of the night to find the final movie in the series playing and a weight on my arm. Tara had also fallen asleep. I reached my arm up and put it around her, taking off some of the pressure and pulling her closer to me at the same time. I fell back asleep again as soon as it happened.

And although it was the first time I had slept all week, I woke up early to find that Ange still hadn't come back. I don't know how Tara knew I was awake because she wasn't looking at me, but she murmured into my chest.

"Coffee?" she asked.

"Yea, coffee sounds good," I answered and moved my arm so that we could both stand up from the couch.


	3. Episode 1- Tara

Today is Ange's birthday, I had been saving up and bought her a silver bracelet. I got paid shit at my new job at the library and between medical expenses and saving for my own place, I was scraping pennies. Of course I could not buy illegal drugs on top of my prescription drugs, but then I'd probably take a dozen lithium pills per day. I had lost my good gallery job while in hospital. DUMBO is my favorite New York neighborhood, but Chelsea was second best and I missed it, no matter how pretentious it was.

"Happy Birthday!" I tell my sister when she gets home from work. I hold out the jewelry box, unwrapped.

She smiles a real smile as she takes out the bracelet and puts in on. The charm looks great dangling from her slender wrist. "Thank you so much! I love it!" She hugs me and crushes the breath from my lungs. "Why are you wearing sweats?"

I shrug. "I haven't left the house."

"Yeah, but my party." She drags me into her room and forces a black dress over my head.

"No!" I protest. "I can't go."

"You're going." She holds out a pair of pumps.

I sigh. She has put me up for the past few months, the least I can do is go to her birthday party. Even if she is meeting her friends in a bar.

I don't notice the name of the bar, but it's well lit; a popular Manhattan hub for socialites. I pull the sleeves of my jacket down over my hands and take a sip of my water. I don't know anyone here except for Ollie. I know she invited Elliot. She invites him every year, but he has yet to show up. Still, I look around, mostly at the door hoping he walks in. Crowds aren't his thing. They used to be mine, but now the sound of everyone's voices make me want to claw their eyes out or maybe open another vein. After an hour of sitting in silence, watching others have fun around me, I decide I have done my sisterly duty. I kiss her on the cheek, wish her a happy birthday again and leave. I light a cigarette, take of my shoes and walk home where I'll be alone.

The one benefit of working in the library is that I work the afternoon shift so I can sleep in even on a Thursday.

1010011010

I open my eyes, but can't actually pull myself out of bed. The only energy I have goes into rolling over to check my phone. The backlight of the screen nearly blinds me in the blacked out room, but it tells me that it's noon. The comforter tells me to stay where it's warm. I pick my phone back up and call my boss.

"Hey, it's me, Tara." Pause. "I feel terrible today." Pause. "I think it'd be better if I stay in bed. I don't want to get anyone else sick." Pause. "Thanks. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow." The lie came so easily, it's one I've told hundreds of times before. I thought about how disappointed Ange would be before falling back asleep.

When I wake up again it's Friday, barely. But the heavy feeling of impending doom lifted enough overnight that I was able to get out of bed and put clothes on even if my knees were shaking from hunger. The blessing of it being so early is that I could take the forty minutes to take the A train from Penn Station to Brooklyn and eat at my favorite 24hr diner and still have time to go back to the apartment and put on presentable clothes for work.

1010011010

I look to the other end of the circulation desk and see Josh, reading a novel. I realize I know nothing about the brunette kid. "I hate working Fridays," I groan to him. The library is massive, but nearly empty aside from some students doing research before they go out and party, assuming they're normal college kids.

"Because it's so empty or because you're stuck here until seven?" he answers without looking up.

I honestly don't care about either, but what would a normal person say? "Both, I guess," I shrug.

"Yeah," he agrees. "I feel like I'm wasting my time. I wish I could get out of here earlier."

I run out of things to say and we still have an hour before the library closes and another hour to actually close and lock the doors. My fingers find their way to a pen and begin tapping it on the desk. I feel myself growing warmer, twitchy. I stand up and dash through the rows of books to the restroom and barge through a stall door. It bangs several times behind me before settling closed as I hunch over the cold toilet. My lunch comes up in three waves with breaks between each for panting and dry heaving.

When I final emerge, Josh looks up. "Are you okay?" he asks.

I nod. "I was sick yesterday, I guess I'm still not completely over it." I sit back down behind the desk, thinking about only one thing: getting high.

1010011010

Ange isn't at her apartment. "Fuck!" I growl at the empty room. I don't want to be high alone, but it's another train ride to Elliot's. I go anyway. I fill my backpack with my drugs and paraphernalia and Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle. I had finished Dorian Gray for the fourth time earlier in the week.

It's dark and cold when I get to Elliot's place. Thankfully, it doesn't take long for him to let me into the building. He's wearing a dark tshirt and black jeans like usual, but his eyes seem puffier.

"What's up?" he says, not looking at me.

I open my backpack and pull out the bottle of pills and bag of weed. "I come bearing gifts. What do you wanna do?" I ask when we get inside his tiny apartment.

"Do you want to be chill and ethereal or be numb?" he counters with another question.

"Numb," I'm able to answer without any thought at all.

We use his mortar and pestle to each crush up a pill. I snort the line he makes for me and watch as he sniffs up his own. He hands me back the bottle of morphine but I shake my head. "It's yours." The high hits and the world fades out from around me. I sit on his mattress, my back against the wall while he sits at his computer. I pull out my book and he turns his back on me.

"What does bon soir mean?" he asks without any conversational lead up.

"Good night," I tell him. "It's French."

He grunts.

"Why?" Sometimes I forget you have to ask specific questions if you want Elliot to speak.

"Some guy said it to me at work today, but it was the middle of the afternoon," he explains.

"Idiot," I laugh and look up at the back of his head and then past to his screens. I stand to get a closer look; it's a stranger's facebook page and emails that I don't think belong to him. "Who's that?" I ask from behind him and put my hand by the collar of his shirt, close to his sternum. His cocoa skin is warm against my icicle fingers.

I feel him swallow. Once. Twice. "My psychiatrist, Krista Gordon. She's dating an asshole named Michael Hansen."

I should probably care that he's a cyberstalker, but I'm still numb from the morphine. "What do you know about me?" I ask out of curiosity.

A few keystrokes later and several windows appear: my social media accounts; untouched since I was released from the hospital, my two different email accounts, and my medical records. "I think you should change your doctor. Doug's an idiot." He stands up to get a cigarette.

"And who do you suggest?"

"Dr. Krista Gordon; she's one of the good ones." He exhales smoke from his perfect, full lips.

I kiss him hard and he kisses back. He takes a second to put out his cigarette before pushing me up against the wall and shoving his tongue down my throat. He feels so good against me, inside me. I moan, loudly as I'm pinned between his strong body and the mattress. His kisses trail down to my chest where he leaves several bites and hickeys in return for the ones I created on his neck. He doesn't announce that he's going to come like some guys, I liked that, I could just feel him climaxing and then filling me. I fall asleep after a couple rounds with my arm across his bare chest.

I don't dream. I never do. Some people might think it's sad, but I think it's a blessing.

"Hey," Elliot's voice wakes me. "You need to get up."

I open my eyes and see that he is kneeling down next to the mattress. Cautiously, I reach out and touch his face. He doesn't flinch away which is good. It means that last night wasn't a mistake. "Morning," I breathe.

"Tara?" I hear my sister's voice. She sounds surprised, offended almost.

I bolt upright, startled. The sheet falls from around me and my tits fly out, full frontal to my sister. I clutch at it and bring it back up to cover myself. "Ange!"

"You know, I really can't deal with this right now," she purses her lips and walks out.

"Are you gonna go after her?" I ask Elliot and I scramble to find clothes. He doesn't answer and I run out, down the stairs in his shirt and my jeans, but no underwear, bra, or shoes. "Ange!" I call, trying to catch up with her. "Ange!"

"Leave me alone!" she growls. "You call out sick from work because you just don't feel like going in. You mope around my apartment, capitalizing on my time and keeping me from living my life, but you're happy enough to go and hump my oldest friend. I've had enough! Just give me some space!"

I let her go and watch her back disappear into the crowded New York sidewalk. I trudged back up the stairs and through Elliot's door, collapsing back on his bed. I pull the weed out of my backpack along with some rolling papers and fix myself a joint. He sits next to me, looking exhausted. I take a few hits and pass the joint to him. When it's kicked, I slip my sneakers on, throw my backpack over my shoulder and leave without another word.

1010011010

I shuffle into the living room, oversized sweatpants covering my bare feet and clutching my phone to my stomach. "Ange?" I ask quietly. She seems to have forgiven me for last week's transgressions, but I now I tiptoe, afraid to send her back over the edge. "Can you make a doctor's appointment for me?"

She nods and holds out her hand.

I give her the phone, the number dialed. "I'm changing psychiatrists to Dr. Krista Gordon."

1010011010

I stand outside the building. The address matches up to my phone but I am still too scared to go inside. What if by some technological fluke it was the wrong building? What if she was only nice to Elliot? I turn to the trash can only feet away and retch into it. Shaking and struggling to breathe, I force myself inside.

"I have an appointment with Dr. Gordon," I squeak to the receptionist.

"Have a seat," she motions to the empty chairs. "She'll be with you in a moment."

A brunette woman pops her head out of the office. "Tara Moss?"

I stand and follow her back inside. She sits in an arm chair and I remain standing picking at my cuticles.

"Sit down. It's alright," she assures me.

I do, leaning back. It's a much nicer couch than Ange's, soft and plump. I expect her to speak, but she doesn't. The silence isn't like that I experience with Elliot, it's uncomfortable and I'm sweating again. "Elliot said you were really kind-hearted," I say just to say something.

"So you know Elliot?" She grins.

"Yes," I answer. "We're…friends."

She pressed me about my suicide attempt. I know it's her job to get inside my head, but it left me feeling exhausted and sad.

As I walk through the waiting room, I pass by Elliot. I try to smile at him and keep walking to the stairwell where I will descend three flights of steps and be spat out back onto the pavement and daylight.

"Tara." His voices echoes off the cinder block walls.

I stop on the landing so that he can catch up with me. When he does he says nothing, but reaches up and kisses me forehead. As soon as his lips leave my skin, he turns and runs back up the stairs.

1010011010

I have been spending a lot of time at Elliot's. When I feel like I'm imposing or have become a burden to my sister, I go for walks that somehow always ended outside of his building. This visit had ended with his head between my thighs. I fell asleep, holding him. We both lay curled on our sides, my arm around his abdomen and my head gently against his back.


	4. Episode 1- Elliot

I walk into work and take my hood off. The first thing I'm told is that I'm wanted in Gideon's office. "Hey," I greet Lloyd and drop my backpack in my cubicle, my terminal, my cell. I put my hands in my hoodie's pockets and walk through the bullpen to my boss's glass office where Ange is yelling at him.

"We were hacked again last night," Gideon hands me a folder.

"What am I looking at?" I rifle through the papers. "Is this a route attack? This is awesome."

"You think this is awesome?" Gideon is becoming hysterical. "This is killing us, Elliot. Let's just see how this meeting goes today. Their networks are getting attacked every week; who knows if there'll still even be a client." He speaks to both me and Angela as he plays with a stress ball. He takes another look at me. "What did we say about the dress code?"

I sigh and unzip the hoodie and then shrug it off.

"Now look over those logs and be ready this afternoon in case they have any questions," Gideon orders.

Ange rolls her eyes at me and I follow her out of the office.

"You start smoking again?" I ask her; she seems extra wound up .

"Did you not get my texts last night?" She ignores the question. "I sent exactly thirteen of them."

"Sorry, I couldn't make it," I tell her. I did try to go. I made it all the way to the bar where I saw Tara fidgeting uncomfortably and I watched Ange kiss Ollie. I was about to open the door when some guys leaving brushed past me. I changed my mind; decided to go to Ron's Coffee and end that creep instead. Now I'm totally fucked. If they weren't following me before, the definitely were now.

"Stop thinking about something else when I'm talking to you," Ange reprimands me. "I hate when you do that."

I hate when she's mad at me. "Sorry, I was thinking about work."

"Maybe that's why Gideon likes you so much. He thanks me all the time for bringing you in. For some reason I think you secretly hate it here."

She's right. I like most of the people, but a cyber-security firm that protects corporations. I can't think of anything I hate more. "No, I love it here," I manage.

She chuckles. "I'm sorry. I'm just in a bad mood. I'm late on my last two student loan payments and I can't get Gideon to give me a raise."

"Hey," Ollie struts over and kisses her cheek.

"Hi," Ange smiles at him.

"Yo buddy," he says to me. "Where were you? Missed you last night."

"Gotta go, big meeting this afternoon," I excuse myself and with my head down, return to my cell.

1010011010

I had fries for lunch which I ate on my way to my appointment with Krista, my psychiatrist.

She asks me what I'm thinking about.

"Nothing," I lie.

"I was thinking about the first time you came to me," she offers up her thoughts. "You're not yelling anymore, which is good, but I can tell you're still holding on to it. We need to work on your anger issues, Elliot. You're angry at everyone, at society. I know you have a lot to be angry about, but keeping it to yourself, staying quiet, it's not going to help. What is it about society that disappoints you so much?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that we collectively thought that Steve Jobs was a great man, even when we knew he made billons off the backs of children? Or maybe it's that it feels that all our heroes are counterfeit. The world itself is just one big hoax. Spamming each other with our burning commentary bullshit, masquerading as insight. Our social media faking as intimacy. Or is it that we voted for this? Not with our rigged elections, but with our things. Our property. Our money. I'm not saying anything new, we all know why we do this. Not because Hunger Games books make us happy, but because we want to be sedated. Because it's painful not to pretend. Because we're cowards. Fuck society."

"Elliot, Elliot, you're not saying anything," Krista interrupts my thoughts. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I lie again. She might be bad at reading people, but at least she's good. "Don't be frustrated," I tell her when she uncomfortably touches her hair.

"Why shouldn't I be?" she sighs.

"You're different than most, you at least try. You at least understand," I confess.

"Understand what?" she asks.

"What it's like to feel alone. You understand the pain. You want to protect people from it. You want to protect me from it. I respect that about you."

Krista tries not to look alarmed. "Why do you think I know what it's like to feel alone?"

Shit, I fucked up. I know from her emails. "I don't know." Another lie.

1010011010

The next day at work Ollie tries to talk to me even though I clearly have my headphones on. "Yo man, do you wanna do lunch today?" he asks.

I take the ear buds out. "Uh, yeah, I've got plans."

"Plans, right," he interrupts me. "That's what you said the last three times I asked you. Look, bud, you and Angela have been close for a long time. That's even more reason why I want us to be on good terms. I feel like things have been awkward between us, don't you?"

"I'm okay with it being awkward between us." I don't lie or pretend.

"Uh, I'm not okay with that, um, look man." I caught him off guard. "I love Angela and I want us to get along for her sake. That's what I'm here for, I just-"

I begin to tune him out. Of course I don't like him, he's cheating on Ange with an anemic girl called Stella B. I haven't told Angela because she has shitty taste in men and I'm not ready to see what comes after this just yet. Plus, I can manage Ollie easier than the others, for now anyway. Oh god, he is still talking.

"I like you bro," he says. "And I want you to like me too."

"I understand," I tell him. "I'll try harder."

"That's cool man, hey whenever you're ready I'd love to just chill." He reaches around to pat me on the shoulder and I uncomfortably move out of the way.

"Ooo I forgot about your no touching." He doesn't even apologize.

I keep my eyes glued to the computer screen. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? Truth is I didn't hate Ollie, he's not that bad of a guy. He's too dumb to be bad. No time to dwell on it; the evil heads of Evil Corp are here, walking by my desk. One of them stops: skinny guy, blond hair, blue eyes.

"Oh, hi," he holds out his hand when I look at him. "Tyrell Welleck. Senior Vice President of technology."

"Elliot," I introduce myself. "Just a tech."

"Don't be so humble." He thinks he's being kind. "I started out exactly where you are and to be honest my heart is still there. So I see you're running NOME. You know I'm actually on KED myself. I know this desktop environment is supposed to be better, but you know what they say: old habits die hard. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, I'm an executive, why am I even running linux; again, old habits. It's gonna be fun working with you. I should join the rest of the group. Bon soir, Elliot."

1010011010

I get home after dark and feed my black beta, Qwerty. If it weren't for him, I'd be completely empty. The wave of my loneliness washes over me and suddenly I'm drowning. I'm on the floor with my knees to my chin, in the nook between the dresser and my mattress. I hate when I can't hold in my loneliness. This crying's been happening too often; every other week now. What do normal people do when they get this sad? They reach out to friends or family, I think, but that's not an option. I do morphine, but shit, I grab the bottle and notice I'm out again. There's a buzz from the doorbell. I run downstairs and see Tara, waiting in the dark. I let her inside and we walk upstairs to my apartment.

"I come bearing gifts," she says holding up a bottle of pills and a bag of weed. "What do you wanna do?" She doesn't ask why I wasn't at Ange's party, but I know she was looking for me while she was there.

"Do you want to be chill and ethereal or numb?" I parry her question.

"Numb," she answers almost immediately. It must have been a tough day for her too.

I crush up a pill and space out a line for her. She does it and I repeat my actions for myself. It doesn't take long for the morphine to kick in, and when it does the world outside of myself, doesn't much exist. She picks a spot on my bed and begins reading a book she brought, Cat's Cradle. Vonnegut was crazy. I pull up Krista's social networks to see what she is doing on a Friday night; if she's with Hansen, but my mind keeps wandering to Welleck, the exec from Evil Corp.

"What does bon soir mean?" I ask.

"Good night," Tara replies automatically. "It's French."

"Huh," I grunt. Why did he say it during the day? Does he think French makes him look smarter? He probably didn't know what he means either.

"Why?" She usually doesn't bother trying to get me to speak, but I'll admit, it was a pretty random question.

"Some guy said it to me at work today, but it was the middle of the afternoon," I explain.

"Idiot." I hear her stand up, but I don't move away from my screens. She stands behind me and her hand moves to my chest, resting just below by collarbone. "Who's that?" she asks about the woman on my computer.

I swallow. I've been caught. "My psychiatrist, Krista Gordon," I admit. "She's dating an asshole named Michael Hansen."

Instead of running for the hills, she keeps her hand on my chest and asks, "What do you know about me?"

I bring up all the information I have saved on her and links to her social media. They're pretty useless now, that she's gone off the grid, but her emails are there too and her medical records. "I think you should change your doctor; Doug's an idiot," I tell her and stand to get a cigarette to ease my nerves.

"And who do you suggest?" she approaches as I light it.

"Krista; she's a good person." I exhale and take a step towards her.

She kisses me, surprises me, but I react well. I put my cigarette out on the wall and then kiss her back, slipping my tongue into her mouth. I push her up against the wall, touching every inch of her body, running my hands up her shirt and grabbing her chest. We move to my bed, she's underneath me. She bites at my neck and claws at my back. It felt good to touch her, to fuck her, to hear her moan. After I come inside of her, I roll over to the side and kiss her shoulder. We pause only for a minute before going at it a few more times.

Tara is asleep. She's on her side with her arm thrown carelessly over my chest. I envy how easily she sleeps. I'm wide awake so I check my phone; Krista's Instagram. She was with Hansen at Pierre Loti. I put on some clothes and make my way uptown.

1010011010

It was a long night and I feel myself fading on the train. Angela had called at three in the morning and I ended up working all night trying to save Evil Corp. I'm the only one on the subway this early on a Sunday, except for the homeless guy I see everywhere. Is he even real?

"Rough night," he says and sits down across from me. Mr. Robot, his shirt says. "I'm getting off here. I'm think you should come with me, but only if you didn't delete it. If you deleted it, we got nothing to talk about."

Against my better judgment, I follow him all the way out to Brooklyn.

1010011010

Walking back to my apartment, I'm freaking out. What if none of that was real? I fell asleep on the train. No, Ange called me. I was at Allsafe. The servers were compromised. Those are facts, not delusions.

Speaking of, Ange is sitting on my stoop. "Thank God you're here," she stands and stomps out her cigarette. "I was just about to go wait in the Starbucks. You live in a bad neighborhood. Do you know that?"

"I do know that," I answer, unsure of what I was supposed to say.

"Do you want to get high and watch your favorite movie?" She ignores my awkwardness and produces a copy of Back to the Future. "You saved our asses last night. I thought Gideon was definitely gonna fire me. Where have you been? I thought you'd be sleeping." I've known the sisters since we were kids, but sometimes I forget they were related.

"I-I fell asleep on the train." Only half a lie.

"That sounds like such a lie," she accuses. "But whatever, I don't want to get into that right now. Do you wanna do this?"

I nod and let her upstairs. I open the door to the closet of an apartment and there's Tara, still naked on my bed. Shit, I had forgotten about her. I look at Ange, she's uncomfortable, and back at Tara; unconscious. I kneel down beside the bed. "Hey, Tara. You need to get up."

She reaches out and gently strokes my face with the tips of her cold fingers. "Morning."

"Tara?" Ange just recognized her.

She turns around so quickly, the sheet falls away, exposing her naked body. She clutches for it and pulls it up to cover her chest. "Ange!" she cries, surprised.

"You know, I really can't deal with this right now," she fumes and storms out the door.

"Are you gonna go after her?" Tara asks me.

I don't give her an answer, I just begin making coffee. I'm not even sure if this is real.

She haphazardly dresses, pulling on her jeans without underwear and throwing my tshirt over her head. She rushes out after her sister, not even bothering with shoes. "Ange!" I hear her call.

Minutes later she stumbles back in, all but falling onto the mattress. Systematically, she begins rolling a joint. She passes it to me and I accept. When we've finished smoking, she doesn't bother finding the rest of her clothes. She puts on her shoes, grabs her backpack and leaves.

1010011010

Dressing for work the next day, I realize the hickeys she had given me still hadn't faded. They're right under my jaw so there's no chance of hiding them under the collar of the stupid shirt. One of the lower ones even peeks out from the collar which I've buttoned all the way up. I notice teeth marks on my chest as well and it scratches my mind. I begin to wonder what Tara's body looks like.

At Allsafe, Ange looks at me, my neck, and then turns around without saying hello. I follow her into the conference room to deal with the Evil Corp execs ready to throw up; I didn't need her making this anymore awkward.

"So what do you got?" The head of the organization, Terry Colby, asks.

"If you look at the first page of your agenda," Gideon begins.

"You're the one who stopped the hack," Colby interrupts to talk to me. I'm not even looking at him. "You know the gals in analysis said this was a tough one. All things being equal, it should have shut us down for days. So you did good."

"Okay." What was I supposed to say? I look back ag Gideon, I actually like him.

"We should start with our counter executive, Angela," he tried beginning again.

"Okay," she picks up her cue. "We first noticed the breech at 2:07 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, Friday night."

"You mean Saturday," Colby corrects her.

Ange grimaces. "Sorry, yes, technically, Saturday morning."

"Yes, that's why we're here, for the technicals," Colby sneers.

Turns out he's not only a moron, but a total ass as well. I try to defend Ange, but she only gets kicked out of the meeting along with Gideon and I'm left alone with the evil executives. I put my folder back into my backpack and pull out a blue one instead, the one that has the information Mr. Robot wanted me to give them. "I found the configuration, followed the routekid with a pattern of IP addresses once you decrypt it." I slide the folder to him. "You'll know where the hack came from."

1010011010

It's been nineteen days and Terry hasn't been arrested. Ange still hasn't spoken to me but Tara shows up out of the blue more and more often. She's lying, next to me in bed, sleeping. She made it very clear that she likes to be the big spoon and I let her without a fight. There was less pressure when being held than holding someone else. I look at my phone I can't say I mind her company. She doesn't pressure me into having conversations. But I worry, there's been no arrest; no revelation. I get up, go to work, there's no Colby, no Evil Corp. I go back to Coney Island; no Mr. Robot no fsociety. I need to take my mind off things.

It's time to break up Krista and Michael Hansen. While my decryption program runs, I look through Ange and Ollie's Facebook pictures. What I wouldn't give to be normal, to live in that bubble, be naive. That's how I justify this; to keep their optimism, to protect them.

I find him on the streets; Michael Hansen. He has a stroller with him and that poor dog. I state my demands; for him to break up with Krista, truthfully. It's invigorating, the power of information and because of it I'm also able to rescue Flipper.

1010011010

I run into Tara at Krista's office. I'm glad she takes my advice, but she looks shaken up. She smiles sadly at me and keeps on her way out of the building. I poke my head into Krista's office. "Five minutes. I'll be right back," I tell her.

Tara has left the waiting room so I run into the stairwell, hoping she is still in the building. "Tara!" I call.

She stops on the landing and I catch up with her. I don't know what to say to make her less sad. Instead, I reach up and kiss her gently on the forehead. As my lips press against her, I realize exactly what it is I'm doing. I pull away and run back to the safety of Krista's office.

"I know Angela is mad at me," I tell Krista. "I'm just not sure why. I don't know if she blames me for what happened at the Evil Corp meeting or if it's because I'm sleeping with her sister. What do I do? I need to talk to her.

"I think you just answered your own question. Talk to her. Go to her in person. Communication is key, Elliot. Real human interaction that's what's important for you right now," Krista told me.

1010011010

"Do you think we can talk?" I approach Ange at work like Krista suggested.

"What?" she asks, walking away from me.

"You haven't talked to me since the meeting," I declare.

"I don't want to you because I feel embarrassed every time I think about what happened, okay?" she explains. "It's fine. I'll get over it."

"It's been three weeks," I whine.

She puts her head down and tries to walk away, my signature move. "I have to get back to work."

"You're just gonna ignore me?" I ask.

"You didn't have to stick up for me in there. I know you were just trying to help. Just don't do it again. Even if I'm losing, let me lose okay? Don't look confused just say it, okay?"

"Okay." I tell her and take a deep breath. I had planned this, thought about it over and over again in my head, but actually doing it was much harder. I step forward and hug her. It feels good.

The room has grown quiet. Everyone is looking at us, no, at the television behind us. It was the news: Terry Colby had just been arrested by the FBI.


	5. Non Sequitur- Tara

"How busy are you?" I ask Elliot.

He minimizes the window on his computer screen and looks up at me, but doesn't actually ask why.

"I need attention," I tell him and straddle him in his chair.

He lets me kiss him. I trail the kisses along his jaw and down to his neck where I nibble on his skin. He groans and runs his hands up and down my thighs. I begin instinctively bucking my hips. He kisses me and picks me up, moving us to his bed where I'm on my back. He pulls my shirt off over my head and undoes my bra. He kisses down my chest and my stomach, playing with my nipples. He pulls off my pants and kisses between my thighs. I moan his name as he emphasizes his intentions with his tongue. When he trails his kisses back up my body I take off his shirt and kiss his lips, using my own tongue. I feel how hard he is when he grinds against me. I undo his belt and tug at his pants. He helps me take them off and I resume kissing him and marking my territory by biting him. He begins rubbing my clit and then slides a finger inside. I let out a gasp of pleasure and he slips in another. I call out his name and try to pull him closer. He pulls out his hand and thrusts himself inside of me with a moan. I claw at his back and buck my hips into him in rhythm with his thrusts, with increased speed and ferocity. He slows down just enough to let me climax first and then he comes inside of me and collapse as he rolls to the side.

"Tara," he breathes and kisses me just below my ear.

"Elliot," I grin back at him and reach over him to grab a cigarette and lighter off the dresser.


	6. Episode 2- Tara

It's strange, working the day shift at the library, but it's only open for twelve hours; less than that on some days. Why didn't they just schedule less people for an all-day shift? Though it did work out, since I normally didn't start until the middle of the day, for me to agree to walk Flipper so she didn't have an accident in Elliot's apartment. Mondays and Saturdays were normally my days off, but I needed the money so I agreed to fill the space this morning for someone I never met. They were too sick to come in apparently, I bet they were too hung over. Maybe they did what I do and lied because they'd rather blow their brains out than sit in the library for five hours.

"Tara!" Josh looks surprised to see me sitting at the desk when he walks in. I had no idea he worked Mondays. I only saw him Tuesday through Friday.

"Hey," I smile to be polite. "I'm glad you're here; now I can go." I close my book and pick up my bag from under the desk before standing and switching places with him.

"See you tomorrow," he tells me, but I'm already halfway to the door.

When I walk into Elliot's apartment, he's already there, not at Allsafe like he was supposed to be. Instead, he's taking a power drill to his hard drive. "Elliot!" I call and he doesn't look up. "Elliot!" I try again, but again there's no response. I'm worried, so I walk up to him and grab his shoulders to get him to stop.

Understandably, he freaks and jerks away, stumbling.

"Sorry! Shit, sorry!" I apologize. "Are you alright?"

"Not really," he admits and puts the drill on a shelf. He pauses for a second, looking at an old Polaroid and shoves it in his hoodie pocket. "I'm being paranoid. It's nothing. I hacked someone I probably shouldn't have. I think it was a trap and I don't want to get caught." He sniffs and scratches his nose.

I look to his coffee table where I saw a line already laid out. "It'll be alright," I tell him. "You're a genius; you'll figure it out and be fine.

He wanders over the radiator that is making weird noises and kicks it as he takes off his hoodie. "Yeah, you're right. Shit."

I follow his gaze to Flipper who is standing on his bed, a wet spot by her paws. "Aw fuck," I sigh. I feel like shit. The whole point of me being there was to prevent Flipper from doing that. "I'll take her out. Make sure she doesn't do anything else."

1010011010

I lay by myself in the spare room. I need a pet of my own. I feel so empty. I'm scared to move because I know I'm going to cause harm. I need to break something, someone, even if that someone is me and that something is a vein. I consider punching the wall. It would cause damage to Ange's place, anger her which would mean she would pay attention to me. I might break my hand at least bruise my knuckles, then I would feel something; some pain. It seems like a win-win. Before I could act though, Ange walked in without even knocking. She took the lock off the door during my 'suicide watch' weeks which I don't think I've completely graduated from.

"You're still in bed?" she cries.

I stare back.

"Maybe you should be thinking of getting a real job or finding your own place if you're not going to do anything while you're here." She's talking to me like she's in a meeting at her corporate job.

"Do you know of any places for $300 a month that don't have massive roach and rat infestations?" I retort.

"So a new job. This," she motions to me in the bed. "Is getting real old."

"I didn't ask for this!" I yell, jumping out of bed. She did it. She motivated me. "I'm trying, Angela!"

"Try harder!" she fumes and slams the door behind her.

I make an incoherent noise, somewhat like a growl and throw some clothes on before grabbing my bag and heading out of the apartment.

"Where are you going?" she demands of my back.

"For a walk."

The plan was obviously to see Elliot. I needed a real friend and if he didn't want to talk that was fine by me, but I couldn't spend another second in a room Ange paid for. When I make it to his floor, he's leaving with a girl wearing gaudy sunglasses. Indoors.

"Tara." He spots me.

"Hey," I step forward slowly, looking for a hug, but remembering how I overstepped my bounds yesterday. He lets me wrap my arms around his waist as he puts his around my shoulders and squeezes letting me know we're alright.

"Darlene," a voice comes from the girl.

Elliot pulls away as though he had forgotten she was there. "Tara," I introduce myself, keeping a hand on his hip, claiming him.

"Let's go," she demands of him.

"This is really important," he tells me. "But I'll be back soon. Can you watch Flipper? She'll need to be taken out."

I nod, remaining in the hallway as they walk away. Right before they reached the stairwell, Elliot turns and jogs back to me. He kisses the tip of my nose, puts his black hood up and then walks after Darlene.

"Hey Flipper!" I call when I walk into the apartment. I pet the dog as she rubs against my ankles. Who needed Elliot when there was a dog to cuddle with? I fed her and then put her on the leash. I brought her outside to that one sidewalk square where the cement was removed to make room for a single tree and a lot of mulch. When I was mad at Ange, I didn't realize how cold it was outside and now I wished for a jacket. I bounce on the balls of my feet, trying to warm up.

My phone buzzes, interrupting my ritual: "Sorry." It's from Elliot.

"Be Careful." I text back, hoping it had nothing to do with the men who had been following him or the reason he had to destroy his hard drive.

I hung out with Flipper for a long while, got high, and ate some Easy Mac. It was like being in college again. It's getting late, Elliot still isn't back, and I'm getting tired. My jeans are tight, digging into my hips and my shirt smells like smoke and the city. I open the top drawer of his dresser and recognize my own clothes. There is some underwear, including bras, socks and a few shirts, clean and folded neatly. I grin. I hadn't realized how often I had been there or how often he tore off my clothes and I left them behind. I put on one of my tshirts and a pair of his boxers and climb into bed. His sheets are soft and they smell clean.

"Wake me up if you're gonna piss," I tell Flipper and then bury my face into the fluffy pillow and drift off.

1010011010

"Hey, come over to Shayla's." Elliot wakes me up.

I plod through the hallway and end up in his dealer's apartment. She's lying on the couch and I can tell she's not okay. I awkwardly wave, having only met her once before. She smiles sadly at me and offers me a seat.

"Thanks for staying here, guys," she whispers and closes her eyes.

I move a chair closer to the one Elliot is occupying and sit down. "Is everything okay with what happened yesterday?" I ask.

"I don't know," he sighs. "I think I've gotten involved with some serious shit. I'm getting out though, so don't worry. Why did you come over?"

"I got into a fight with Ange. She doesn't understand how it is to feel hopeless. She's always been a determined, one-track mind, go-getter type person. She's never had her world collapse from under her and bury her. I'm trying, but it's really hard. She wants me to move out, but I can't afford rent in the city and could you imagine me on my own?" I let out a harsh laugh because I am that much of a wreck. "I don't think I've ever even said this much to a therapist."

The corners of his mouth twitch up. "Are you wearing your own shirt?" He asks, incredulous.

"Yeah, but your boxers," I chuckle.

"You should just stay with me," he suggests.

I laugh. "Imposing on you nearly all the time is a lot different than actually living together."

He shrugs. "You already have your own drawer."

"I have your shirts in my room too," I point out.

"I'm just sayin' if you need space from Ange; you have a key now."

I consider the possibility; waking up in his bed every morning. He is so fucked up though, we'd be a chemical mixture waiting to explode. We'd be so good though, before the combustion. I'd be happy. "Thanks, Elliot. Can I ask you something else? Are you really okay with me touching you? I mean you never had a problem with my hugs, but this is a bit more than that."

"You're safe," he says. "The only person I've known longer than you is your sister and that's only because we're two years older than you."

I curl up with my feet on the chair and put my head on my knees and fall back asleep. I have the most wonderful ability to fall asleep whenever and wherever I want.

1010011010

Krista is staring at me, just staring. I think she wants me to talk first, but I only stare back. I always used to win staring competitions with my siblings. I could sit on that couch all day: that's all I do. She touches her hair the way she does when she's nervous or uncomfortable.

"Let's talk about your relationships," she finally breaks. "It seems like other than Angela, Elliot is your only friend."

"I have friends!" I protest.

She narrows her eyes. "Who are your other friends?"

"Josh," I answer immediately. I talk to him anyway.

"And who is Josh?" she prods.

"I work with him."

"But it's safe to say you're closest to Elliot?" She says.

I can't tell whether it's a statement or question or why she wants to talk about Elliot so badly. "Yes." I offer up nothing else.

"How would you define that relationship? Are you his girlfriend?" Now she's getting on my nerves and I wonder why I even bother going to psychiatrists in the first place. Oh yeah, the meds.

I scoff. "I wouldn't. I don't really get the point of labeling things like that."

"Because you don't believe in monogamy?"

"Because everything is temporary," I contradict her. "You think love can't last. Do you think marriage is a farce?"

"Not at all," I love how wrong her assumptions are and it feels good to correct everything she says. "If you love someone that much to be committed to them until you die, good for you, but that's the thing: you die. You die, or they die and then the other is left alone. I think it's pretty selfish to monopolize someone else's life like that."

"Is that what happened to you?"

1010011010

I notice some oversized drawing paper in the corner of the room. I must have brought it over with the rest of my stuff, but I hadn't paid it any mind. I didn't think much at all about my art supplies. Art supplies that I used to spend hundreds of dollars on to create work. In a flurry of motion, I tape several sheets to the wall. It doesn't do much; white paper on a white wall. I rifle through the drawers of the nightstand, but find nothing. I go to the drawers of the desk and find a stick of charcoal. I press it against the paper and pull it down, leaving a black streak. So simple. I make another and then another. It's coming together. The lines are interacting with each other, talking and becoming something more. I step back and notice someone standing next to me, a black hoodie. He's staring at what I drew. I look at it too and see my brother's face staring back at me. "Tyler," I breathe his name. I haven't said it since he died. Oh god, I missed him. I grab onto Elliot and bury my face in his shoulder. "What are you doing here?" I sniff.

"You weren't answering your phone."

I reach over to the desk and pick up my cell. Sure enough there were six missed calls, all from Elliot. "What's up?" I ask.

"I'm going out to Coney Island; the boardwalk, to meet with some people. I just wanted you to know where I was," he says.

"If it's dangerous enough that you need someone to know where you're going, then you shouldn't go alone!" I grab my jacket, planning on going with him.

He shakes his head. "This is something I need to do alone. But I meant what I said last night. If you need to get out of here, bring your stuff to my place." He kisses my forehead. "That's really good, by the way." He points at the picture on the wall and leaves me alone.

I yell and reach up, tearing the picture down. I rip the pieces in half and begin to cry as I destroy it. The sounds of the crumpling paper satisfy me to an extent, but the air becomes too heavy and I really can't breathe. Elliot was a sign. I can't stay in this apartment.


	7. Episode 2- Elliot

I was basically kidnapped by the men from Evil Corp. It was traumatizing, standing there in front of Wellick and his cronies. Now they're dropping me off at my apartment. How did I get into this mess? The ogre looking one hands me a card with a phone number in it "in case I want to get in touch with Wellick." I keep my eyes ahead and see a strung out creep with Shayla. She keeps trying to pull away from him, but he doesn't let her go. Finally she breaks free and we reach the steps of our building at the same time.

"You alright?" I ask.

"Just a creeper," she shrugs. "Is your radiator messed up? Cause it's like a thousand degrees in my apartment. Hey, are you okay? You seem off."

I don't get why people need to fill my silence with their words. "While I'm here do you mind if I re-up?"

"Little early to re-up, don't you think?" she asks.

I shrug. "I'm deviating from the schedule a little."

"Woah, I never thought I'd see the day, but okie dokie." She goes into her bag. "Oh shit, I'm out of the other ones."

"No, just the morphine is good," I tell her.

"You made me promise to never give you these unless I had the withdrawal meds!" she protests. "Promises matter, okay? I take this shit to heart. Fine, but you have to promise me you won't do a lot until I get the other pills." She pauses and I only stare. "You have to say it."

"I promise."

1010011010

I make three lines and do two of them. Hacking Tyrell Wellick; you think it'd be tricky, but it wasn't. His emails, his life, it's nice, happy, perfect. This doesn't make sense. Did he know I was gonna hack him? Did he let me? I'm gonna need to wipe everything. I begin unplugging. I pull the cards out of my drives and throw them in the microwave, melting them down. I drill through my hard drives and chips, throwing them into a trash bag. I feel hands on my shoulders. Who the hell is touching me, I jerk away, shaking. Fuck. It's Tara.

"Sorry! Shit, sorry!" She apologizes. "Are you alright?"

"Not really," I try to catch my breath and put the drill back on the shelf. I notice an old photograph of my mother and I at the beach. I'm smiling which is strange. I shove it in my pocket . "I'm being paranoid. It's nothing. I hacked someone I probably shouldn't have. I think it was a trap and I don't want to get caught."

"It'll be alright," I tell him. "You're a genius; you'll figure it out and be fine.

I can barely hear her over the radiator and its stupid clanging. I take off my hoodie and kick it as though that would actually fix anything. "Yeah, you're right." I look past her and see Flipper, she's peed on my bed. "Shit."

She looks over her shoulder and sees the dog too. "Aw fuck," she breathes. "I'll take her out, make sure she doesn't do anything else."

When she brings her back in, I've changed the sheets on my bed. She says goodbye since she only stopped by for Flipper and I let her go. I put out the fire in my microwave and take out the trash bag full of hardware. I reach into my pocket and look at the photo, about to toss it too, but at the last minute I choose to put it back in my hoodie pocket.

1010011010

Everyone at work is looking at me, staring. I keep my hood up, but I can still feel their eyes. Terry Colby's arrest is on everyone's mind screen, might as well be the same thing nowadays. How do I go back to work after this? How can I focus on anything and when is Mr. Robot going to contact me again? What's he waiting for? Did I destroy a man's life for no reason? I am pulled from my thought when Gideon calls me into his office.

"I'm going to talk to HR about a salary bump for you," he says.

"No, please-" I protest.

"Take the raise," he insists. "It's not gonna be much, but it's the best I can do right now. Elliot, you saved the company. Blah blah blah. Who knows what these fsociety hackers are gonna do next?"

"What did you just say?" It sounded like fsociety.

"The ones working with Colby," he explains. "Who knows how deep these data docs are gonna get and Evil Corp-"

"What are you talking about?" I interrupt.

His eyes widened. "There's a twist! You're usually the one a step ahead of me. They hit the motherload during the breech. Potentially terrabytes of emails and files. They're threatening to dump everything unless the FBI frees Colby."

1010011010

Leaving work, I run into Ange and Ollie. "Hey, Elliot!" he stops me. "Congrats, man. Allsafe is all over the internet today because of you. We should celebrate. We have this groupon for four at Warden's on Thursday. This other couple we were going with totally bailed. Why don't you come with?"

The men in black are here. I see them behind Ollie. Shit, I have to go. Dammit, I promised I'd try harder. "Yeah, okay."

"Yeah? Awesome man. Why don't we make it a double date?"

Why won't he shut up? I need to get out of here.

"You can bring Tara, or you know-"

"Yeah, sure," I agree again. "I gotta go, the neighbors are complaining about the dog barking again." When I get home, poor Flipper is whining and there's someone in my bathroom. Maybe it's just Tara and she never left after taking Flipper for her walk. But I thought she had to work tonight. The girl is in the shower and I slide back the door.

"Dude! Jesus Christ!" It's Darlene. "I'm naked, asshole, don't stare at me!"

I was really hoping it was Tara. "Why the hell are you in my shower?" I ask with my back towards her, feeling violated.

"Well I was waiting for you. You were supposed to come last night, did you forget?" she asks.

"Come? Where?" What the hell is she talking about?

"It's fine," she sighs. "Everyone's coming later. Oh, by the way, your dog shat on your bed. You gotta walk that thing."

1010011010

I'm finally able to get Darlene out of the door and as I walk into the hallway, I see Tara. "Tara," I call to her.

"Hey," she steps forward slowly and it takes me a second to realize she's coming in for a hug. She slips her arms around my waist, between my hoodie and shirt. I put my arms around her shoulders to reciprocate.

"Darlene," the other girl introduces herself.

I pull away from Tara. I had forgotten Darlene was there. Tara keeps a hand on my hip as she gives her name to Darlene.

"Let's go." Darlene sounds fed up.

"This is really important," I try to explain to Tara although I don't want her to let go of me. "But I'll be back soon. Can you watch Flipper? She'll need to be taken out."

She nods and I leave with Darlene, but right before we get to the stairs, I feel like I have been rude and hurry back to Tara. I kiss the tip of my nose, pull my hood up and then catch up with Darlene.

"How do you know where I live?" I ask on the train.

1010011010

We're on Coney Island, by the arcade. For all we know, I could be walking into a trap right now. We could be dead the second I walk through that door.

"Come on, kid," Darlene opens the door. "We got big things in store."

I enter the old arcade to a round of applause from three other people.

"Hey man," the heavier one reaches out to shake my hand and I move too slowly. His fingers brush mine and I pull back violently. "Oh, shit, sorry. Sorry, um okay. Well, awesome work man, really awesome," he tries to smooth things over.

"Great so now that we're all done going down on each other can we hear the plan?" Darlene sneers. "Where are we at with Steel Mountain?"

"If I'm not mistaken these lines still aren't 100% secure," Mr. Robot replies. "We still haven't made the Colby project disappear."

"What's her deal?" I ask him about Darlene.

"Eh she's a complicated woman," he shrugs. "Most malware coders are, right?"

"She showed up at my apartment," I complain. "Why does she know where I live?"

"Let's not focus on her. That'd be like entering a bad KO you'll never wake up from," he chuckles. "Instead, I need you to focus on the next phase of our project."

The next phase was blowing up the natural gas plant in Albany and in doing so, destroy the offsite data storage facility for every corporation in the city including Evil Corp. He tells me that I'm to hack in, "increase the pressure and cause a gas pipeline explosion, making Steel Mountain go kablooie, along with Evil Corp's soul."

"The workers?" I ask. "Anyone living around the plant? They all die?"

"Eh," he shrugs again. "Give them a head start, sound some alarms. They'll be fine. The world is a dangerous place, Elliot, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing. This is war! People will die; can't save them all."

"I'm not killing anyone," I declare and walk away.

"Tell me Elliot," he stops me. "Are you a 1 or a 0? That's the question you have to ask yourself are you a yes or a no. Are you gonna act or not?"

I laugh. "You've been staring at a computer screen way too long, homie. Life's not that binary."

"Isn't it?" he counters. "Sure there are grays. When you come right down to it, its core, every choice is either 1 or 0. You either do something or you don't. You walk out that door, you decide to do nothing, to say no, which means you do not get to come back. You leave, you are no longer a part of this. You become a 0, but if you stay, you want to change the world, you become a yes, become a 1. So I'll ask you again: are you a 1 or a 0?"

"There's an innocent man in prison because of what I did!" I yell at him.

He barks out a laugh. "Let's not kid ourselves. This has nothing to do with Colby."

I walk out anyway. Darlene is leaning against the building, smoking.

"Disappearing again?" she calls.

"I'm not killing anyone," I growl. "Leave me out of this."

"You don't get to disappear from this. We can do it with or without you, but you're a part of it either way!"

I pull my hood up and keep walking.

"Yeah, even your stupid hoodie can't protect you, bitch!" She yells louder.

On the subway, I start panicking. This is a mistake. I gotta turn them in; should I turn them in? Get them in trouble? Shit. She's right, I'm culpable now. I get back and for some reason I check on Shayla. Seeing her supplier before was scratching my brain.

I knock on the door. "Shayla." There's no answer, but the door is unlocked so I go inside and put down my backpack. I knock on her bathroom door. "Yo, Shayla."

"Yo, bro, can I help you with something?

I turn around and see him sitting on the couch in nothing but his underwear. I hadn't even noticed him before and now my heart dropped into my stomach. "I, uh, need to talk to Shayla."

"Oh, your girl, she in the tub," he tells me.

I knock again. "Shayla!"

"Yo, she be out in a minute!" he yells. "Can sit and wait, if you want."

"I think we should check on her," I argue. "Make sure she's alright."

He laughs, but it's more of a wheeze than anything else. He's as high as kite. "You a funny dude, I like you. "Don't be rude. Sit down and chill."

I sit like he wants. There's a gun on the table. He passes me whatever he's smoking, but I ignore it.

"Ah that's right, you only do this." He puts a bottle of pills on the table. "You're the only one I know to take withdrawal meds while he usin'. That's smart. Probably even convinced yourself you ain't an addict. Shit. I forgot to introduce myself-"

"-Fernando Vera. Shayla's supplier. One of the worst human beings I've ever hacked. His password: eatadick6969. Aside from all the money he spends on porn and webcams, he does all his drug transactions through emails, IMs, and Twitter. The fact that the cops haven't caught him yet is beyond me. If they had half a brain cell, they'd be able to crack his gang's simplistic code. If it can even be called that. After only a couple of hours of timing his tweets with related news articles, I figured out that biscuit and clickety clearly reference guns. I thought about turning him in, but he's Shayla's only supplier. I take him down, I lose my drugs and with everything going on right now, I can't have that.

"You get that though?" he asks, but I have no idea what he was saying. "Anyway, bra. I ain't nothing to worry about. Just making a drop for you. What's your name anyway?"

"Elliot."

"What it mean? What? You ain't ever googled it, man? You gotta do that! The meaning of a person's name is important, bro. Yo, she good!" He yells when I look towards the bathroom door. "Trust me, I gave her that shit myself. You don't really need these, do you?" He picks up my pills. "Anyone with your courage can last through a little withdrawal." He prattles as he puts his clothes back on. "You know, you're the only reason that I met Shayla. In a weird way I should be thanking you. You brought her to me."

When he finally leaves, I rush to the bathroom door and pick the lock. She's passed out in the tub with blood caked on the side of her face, but at least she's breathing. "Shayla, wake up."

"What happened?" she asks.

"You okay? Why was that asshole here?"

She looks at herself. "Why am I in the tub?"

I get her out and get her dressed and onto the couch. I want to take her to the hospital, go to the police. She tells me not to do anything.

"Hey, do you mind sleeping here tonight?" she asks me.

"I left Tara at my place," I tell her. "I have to check on her."

"Bring her over; you both can stay," she tries to smile.

1010011010

Tara is asleep in my bed and Flipper hasn't had another accident inside. "Hey, come over to Shayla's." I say to wake her up.

She walks with me across the hall, back to Shayla's. Tara waves to her and Shayla smiles. "Sit down. Thanks of staying here, guys," she whispers and closes her eyes, falling asleep pretty much immediately.

Tara drags one of the chairs closer to me. "Is everything okay with what happened yesterday?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I think I've gotten involved with some serious shit. I'm getting out though, so don't worry. Why did you come over?"

"I got into a fight with Ange. She doesn't understand how it is to feel hopeless. She's always been a determined, one-track mind, go-getter type person. She's never had her world collapse from under her and bury her. I'm trying, but it's really hard. She wants me to move out, but I can't afford rent in the city and could you imagine me on my own?" She barks out one of those sick laughs. "I don't think I've ever even said this much to a therapist."

I know what it's like to be hopeless and lonely too well. I nearly smile as I notice what she was sleeping in. "Are you wearing your own shirt?"

"Yeah, but your boxers," she says with a real laugh this time.

"You should just stay with me," I offer.

She shakes her head. "Imposing on you nearly all the time is a lot different than actually living together."

"You already have your own drawer," I point out.

"I have your shirts in my room too," she counters.

"I'm just sayin' if you need space from Ange; you have a key now."

I can see her scratching her own brain. "Thanks, Elliot. Can I ask you something else? Are you really okay with me touching you? I know you've never had a problem with me hugging you before. But this is a bit more."

"You're safe" I explain. "The only person I've known longer than you is your sister and that's only because we're two years older than you."

She curls up into the chair and falls asleep, leaving me alone.

1010011010

I think about Vera on the way to my appointment with Krista. I have to do something. He can't be allowed to exist anymore. I know Tara has the slot with the doctor before me. I stand staring at two shitty watercolors in the hallway. I remember when she was into her art. She would have had a lot to say about these, now, I'm not sure if she's even noticed them. I never have.

"Perhaps we should start with how you're feeling?" Krista asks when I get my turn to talk to her.

"Not good."

"What's not good right now?" she tries again.

"Everything."

"Humor me with some specifics," she smiles kindly.

I talk to her about control or lack thereof, comparing everything in our world that is basically the same thing. Two things we think we are choosing between when in reality there's no difference.

"I'm sorry you feel that you have no control," is her response.

"I thought I was doing some good," I explain. "Part of this project. Thought I was gonna be part of something special."

"And now?" she wants me to tell her more.

"Now it turned out to be a mistake along with everything else. What's the point, right? Might as well do nothing," I sigh.

"And what about Tara? Is she a mistake?"

I shake my head. Being friends with the Mosses is probably the only thing I've ever done right. "I asked her to move in with me."

"And?" Krista has to ask.

"She didn't take me seriously," I answer.

1010011010

I call Tara about six times the next day and she doesn't pick up once. I'm headed back to the arcade, but I want her to know where I am if I don't go back. I go over to Ange's to see her in person. It's also a chance to properly ask her to come live with me.

"What are you doing here?" Ange asks when she answers the door.

"Tara's not answering her phone," I push past her and to Tara's room. She doesn't notice me. She's too busy drawing on some paper she taped to the wall. I recognize the face right away. It's Tyler; her twin. I haven't thought about him since he died of cancer over six months ago. Ager he died, it was like he never existed. Ange doesn't have any pictures of him and neither talk about it. Tara and Tyler were two peas in a pod, even in looks. The only thing different about them was gender.

Tara grabs on to me and cries into my shoulder. "What are you doing here?" she asks.

"You weren't answering your phone."

She looks at her phone to see what I'm talking about. "What's up?"

"I'm going out to Coney Island; the boardwalk, to meet with some people. I just wanted you to know where I was," I explain.

She wants to come with me, but I can't let her get involved. "In the meantime you can start moving your stuff into my place." I kiss her forehead and turn to go. "That's really good, by the way." I point at the portrait.


	8. Interim- Elliot

Back on the Coney Island boardwalk, I find Mr. Robot sitting on a railing, watching the ocean. With a deep breath, I approach him.

"Sit," he commands.

I climb over the railing. "I know how to take out the backups without blowing up the pipeline."

"Really, Elliot," he sighs. "I really felt like we resolved this. Didn't you walk away?"

"I did," I reply. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed with Tara. Did I pass up an opportunity to connect? What do you think?

"Didn't I say that if you walked away, you were no longer a part of this?"

"I have a real plan," I insist. I had to try to save these people. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to tell me about your dad," he answers.

I laugh at him. "You're not getting in my head, man. That shit's not gonna work."

"Tell me how he died," Mr. Robot demands.

"Why man?" What is he playing at. "Something tells me you already looked that shit up anyway."

"I want to hear it from you."

"I do this, we go back to the arcade, discuss the plan with the rest of them?" I ask and he doesn't answer. He's using his silence to get me to speak. I should know better than to fall into a trap like that. I light a cigarette to release some of my tension. "We were very close. He was my best friend. Worked at Evil Corp his whole life, one of the best computer engineers they had. Out of the blue, he got fired and no one knew why. One day he told me he had leukemia, made me swear not to tell anyone, especially my mom." Leukemia, that's what had killed Tyler. "I don't, but a few months go by and he gets sicker and sicker. Finally I got so worried I told my mom. He found out, got pissed, started yelling. I tried to hug him and tell him I was sorry. Kept shoving me away. Shoved me so hard I fell backwards out of the window. I fell and broke my arm. Never spoke to me after that. Couldn't even look at me, even the night he died." I exhale with a deep sigh. I never told Ange or Tara that story. "We good?"

He puts a hand on my shoulder and rubs my back. It's weird, but I don't pull away, I'm too emotionally exhausted. "I understand what it's like to lose a parent," he tells me. "It's heartbreaking. Ever think he was right?"

"About what?"

"Hurting you that way for what you did to him. Ever think you deserve it?" he elaborates.

That caught me off my guard. Why the fuck would he even ask that? "I never did anything to him! I was trying to help him!"

"Betraying his trust," Mr. Robot shrugs as though it was obvious.

"I was eight years old," I try explaining, but I'm falling. Then there's nothing.


	9. Interlude- Tara

I can feel the cold, cement steps through my jeans as I sat on the steps outside of my dealer's building. If Elliot lives in a bad neighborhood, I don't know what you would call this, but Billy runs this part of town so no one will mess with me. It's nice to know my reputation still holds. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt up around my ears without putting it on, feeling extra sleepy.

Finally, Billy shows up and flicks away the cigarette he's smoking. "How are you doing?" He asks as I follow him up to his apartment.

"Still here aren't I?" I smile.

He chuckles and actually looks at me. "Looks like you got a boyfriend," he grins, pointing to my neck.

"Roommate," I correct him.

"What?" He asks because I'm staring at him.

"Are we friends?"

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him. "I suppose so. Where's this coming from?"

"You asked how I was. No one really does." I explain.

"Hey, you opened your wrists in a bathtub. I gotta make sure my most loyal costumer isn't leaving me anytime soon," he tries to lighten the mood with a wink.

"We all have our weak moments," I tell him. "Now are you gonna help me out or what?"

"Are you gonna introduce me to your sister?" He counters.

I laugh. "Ange might have shitty taste in men, but she actually dates them so I don't think you qualify as someone she'd be interested in."

"What does that say about you?" he grins and pecks me on the lips.

I'm always surprised at his friendly kisses by how soft his lips are since he's such an intimidating dude. He's handsome, but with a shaved head and a not fully grown goatee and tattoos that show on his neck from under the collar of his shirt. My stomach growls and he laughs at me.

"Have you eaten lunch?" He asks.

"I forgot," I admit.

"There should be some pizza in the fridge. Eat," he orders. "I'll get the weed."

"It's not going to kill me is it?" I ask opening the fridge door. The cardboard box is the only thing in there. It's pathetic and I feel kinda bad, but my stomach rumbles again and I reach in and pull it out of the cold.

"Uh," he hesitates. "No, it's only two days old."

I shrug and grab a slice, munching away as he measures out the bud. I lick my fingers as he hands me the bag. I pull some cash out of my pocket and hand it to him.

He puts it in his pocket without even looking at it. Am I that pathetically honest? "Pleasure doing business with you."

He hugs me again with another kiss, squeezing my shoulders and my face ends up in his soft black shirt. He smells like expensive cologne and pot.

"If your boyfriend isn't taking care of you I'm gonna kill him!" He calls after me as I leave.

I laugh, but he means it. Meaning to kill someone can't be normal. We're all fucked up.


	10. Episode 3- Tara

"What the hell, Tara?" Ange is not handling my freak-out well.

"You never talk about him," I cry. "Look at this place! There's not one photo of the three of us. You buried him and shut the door, completely removing him from your life!" The tears pour from my eyes and into my mouth. I'm spitting and my nose has begun to run. "But I don't have that luxury," I continue. "Every time I look in the mirror I see him! He is a part of me and I have to be reminded every day that I'll never have the real him again! You could honor his memory, commemorate the years we had as a family, but you'd rather pretend like nothing happened. Like he wasn't your brother too and it's disgusting." I collapse to my knees sobbing and entirely spent. I hadn't cried this hard since the night at the hospital when the doctors called it. They had to actually hold me down I was making such a fuss. None of them could understand that the moment his heart stopped I felt a hole. I had lost a piece of myself.

"I'm sorry," she kneels down next to me and rubs my shoulders. "I'm so sorry."

I wipe the snot on my sleeve and try to sniff the rest of it back in. In a split second of calm clarity, I realize that Elliot hadn't called. It was strange that he had told me where he was going so wouldn't he call and tell me he's alright? "I'm sorry," I tell Ange and scurry back into my room, not sure where I had left the mobile device. I find it buried beneath the scraps of paper I hadn't cleaned up from the portrait. There are only three people I call: Ange, Elliot, and Billy so it's not hard to get to his contact. The phone rings, but he never answers. I try again. Still no answer. Maybe he's just too high to get to his phone, I tell myself, hoping he isn't in serious trouble. Ange lingers in the doorway, concerned.

The phone rings after I put it down. "Yes?" I answer before it finishes the first buzz.

"Hello is this Tara Moss?" the voice says.

"Yes?" I squeak.

"Elliot Alderson is here at the hospital. You're listed as his emergency contact…"

"I'll be there in thirty minutes," I cut him off and hang up. "Sorry, Ange I have to go!" I grab my bag and run out of there, all the way to the nearest F train station. I collapse on the seat of the train, out of breath and sweaty. There is a pit growing inside of my stomach, eating away at my insides until it reaches my throat and threatens to spew out. I concentrate on keeping it in instead of on Elliot and whatever trouble he caused.

1010011010

He is lying in the gurney. His face cut on one side and pale. He is breathing easily, but it is alarming to see him unconscious like that. I had never seen him sleep because of his insomnia. I fall asleep before him and he's always up and about before I ever wake up. My breath catches in my throat and I recall what the nurses told me. That he would be alright, that it looks worse than it is. I pull the chair up beside his bed and sit down. He looks peaceful, for once. Elliot always seems to be struggling, forcing his way through life. That's how I feel and it saddens me that he also feels that pain, but here, you would never know the weight he carries. I reach into my bag and find that my little Moleskine sketch book is in there. I hadn't realized that I had begun carrying it around again. The pages are smooth beneath my fingers. I scrounge up a pen, and placing it on the page, begin to draw. First his eyes, than his nose, scratching away so intently I don't even notice right away when his eyes open.

"Elliot!" I cry and grab his hand. "Are you alright?"

He turns his head and looks at me, blinks a few times, but doesn't speak.

"They said you jumped," I whisper. I couldn't believe that he would abandon me like that. Not after finding comfort in each other after all this time.

"I was pushed," he assures me.

I narrow my eyes at him. "I thought you got out of whatever trouble you were in."

"I'm officially out now," he tries to smile. "Can we go?"

"They won't let you leave until you talk to a psychiatrist," I tell him.

"Call Krista," he groans.

I leave to find the nurse to give her Dr. Gordon's information. When I return to the room, Elliot has passed out again.

1010011010

"How's he doing?" Krista asks when she arrives.

I shrug. I hadn't taken my eyes off him since he had lost consciousness. I sit with my feet on the chair and my knees to my chin, scared to blink. His eyes flicker open and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Are you alright?" I ask, able to hear my own desperation in my voice.

"I don't know," he answers. "What are you doing here?"

"We talked a few hours ago. You don't remember telling them to call Krista?" I try not to look upset as I say this, but I'm really fucking worried. "Well you can't leave until you talk to a psychiatrist, so I'll wait outside."

1010011010

It's only another hour before they release Elliot and I go home with him. After getting off the subway, we stop in a convenience store where he picks out one of those sketchy five hour energy shots and cigarettes.

"That's your breakfast?" I raise my eyebrows. If the fall didn't kill him living off that shit certainly will. I pick out a Clif bar from the shelves under the counter. I gently tap his forehead with it. "You need food." I throw it in with the rest of his items and pull money from my pocket. Among the bills is a crumpled up twenty which I toss over to the cashier. It feels like twenty years before he gives me my change and we can head out.

Walking through the streets, I watch him as he eats the Clif bar, taking meticulous bites. He shoves the last three bites into his mouth in one go, crumples up the wrapper and throws it in the nearest waste bin.

"Have you finished moving in yet or did you not have anything left at Ange's?" He asks, downing the energy shot next.

"I brought over a pillow, a razor, and a box of tampons." I laugh a bit because of how much more unglamorous it is to live full time with someone and not just sleep with them. He must get it too because he smiles.

We run into his neighbor Shayla in the hallway of his building, looking a bit stressed out. "She used to be my emergency contact until I started spending all my time with you," he tells me under his breath.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" she stops him. "Did you have something to do with Vera getting busted? Shit, Elliot, you said you weren't gonna do anything."

Doesn't she know he's a liar? I think. My mind goes back to the night I slept in her living room. Good for Elliot for turning that guy in. It sucks if that's not what Shayla wanted, but he just made the world a better place.

"He's on murder charges," she tells us. "Did you know that his whole crew bounced? I don't know what I'm gonna do for money now. Just tell me, Elliot and don't lie: did you do something?"

"No," he insists. "Are-are you okay, from everything?"

"I'm fine," she sighs, and then looks towards Elliot's apartment. "What happened to your door?"

I follow her gaze to where he looks like it had been kicked in. Elliot goes first and I follow with Shayla right behind me. On the couch, that bitch Darlene is sitting and reading a magazine with a cigarette in her hand.

"You're not supposed to be here," Elliot tells her. "I changed the locks for a reason."

She holds up what she's been reading. "Jessica Alba says she wants to join ," she laughs. "Jesus, what happened to your face?"

"What the fuck is going on?" I ask.

"You need to leave," Elliot tells Darlene.

The girl looks over at me. "Babe, not to be mean, but we have a lot of serious shit to discuss so if you wouldn't mind-"

Elliot steps between us so she can't even look at me and I stand back closer to Shayla. I make a kind of what-the-fuck hand gesture and she just shrugs.

"Get out," he growls.

She snarls as she stands up and grabs her bag. "I suggest you get a grip," she says, slamming the door behind her.

"I gotta get to work," Elliot says and grabs his backpack.

"Work?" Shayla scoffs. "You can't go to work!"

I have never agreed with anyone more on anything. The kid needed rest. "Elliot, you could have died."

"I have to go!" he yells at us and pushes out of the apartment.

I sigh and squat down to pet Flipper. "He's impossible," I tell Shayla and kiss Flipper on the top of his head.

"What are you doing now?" she asks.

"Gotta take care of this bugger," I tell her. "Normally I work in the afternoon, but it's my day off."

She sits crossed legged on the floor next to me. "Let's get high."

1010011010

We spent the afternoon giggling on the couch. She's long gone now, but I'm still buzzed when Elliot gets back from work. He sits down next to me, but I don't pay him any mind. I don't even realize until later that he was thumbing through my sketchbook that I had left on the table. I do notice, though, that he's still wearing the black hoodie. Maybe he has a lot of different ones; I had never looked in his closet.

"My boss invited me to a dinner party at his house tonight. I thought you could come," he says.

"Why did you say yes?" I hated groups of people with their fake smiles and cliché anecdotes and pointless chatter. Their small talk polluted the air with ugly voices, useless noise.

"I need you," he continues. "I'm not good in social situations like that."

My jaw drops. "And you think I am?"

"You know how to talk to people, you just choose not to. I don't know how to and I need the support."

"Fine," I sigh. "For you, but I'm not dressing up."

1010011010

It's a short subway ride to Gideon's; he lives closer to the water. When we get there, Angela and Ollie are already standing outside.

"Tara! I didn't know you were coming?" Ange smiles through pursed lips.

I shrug. "I only just found out too."

A fourth one appears, way more excited than the rest of us. Elliot informs me his name is Lloyd. He looks like a Lloyd.

"What up guys! Did you just get here?" he grins.

"Nice suit," Ollie comments and fixes the sleeves of his own shirt.

"What is up with you? You've been fidgeting all night," Ange points out to her boyfriend.

Ollie mutters something under his breath and tries the doorbell again, following it up immediately with a knock on the door.

A man in an orange sweater answers. "Hey guys, how long have you been standing out here? The doorbell is broken, I should have warned you. Come in! I'm Harry, by the way."

He ushers the five of us inside and we all get served wine. Snacks are set up on the kitchen island, but there aren't enough seats so Elliot stands behind my stool. I only know about half the room and I feel my chest start to heave. Concentrate, I have to tell myself. In. Out. My breathing slows and I look around the room again. Good, no one noticed, but I can't so easily hide the fear in my eyes. I can talk to people sure, people I've met several times in a place I've been several times and OH MY GOD. Breathe.

"Ollie, how long have you guys been together?" Harry asks.

"About two and a half years," he answers.

"-two years," Ange answers at the same time.

Five minutes in and it's already unbearably awkward, I'm about to excuse myself to go to the bathroom when Harry focuses his attention on us.

"Elliot, how long have you and Tara been together?"

"Well, uh," he shrugs. I think he wants me to help him out, but I don't know what to say. "A little while," he ends up mumbling.

Great. It's even more awkward. I reach back to grab his hand to comfort him as much as myself when Gideon comes to the rescue.

"Okay, enough grilling of the guests. Let's check on the real grill; Elliot, I could you your help," he says and steals away my date.

Harry ignores Gideon and returns to my interrogation without hesitation. "So these guys are computer programmers, but what do you do?"

"Currently I'm working at the library," I admit quietly, feeling suddenly inadequate.

"She's an artist!" Angela pipes in.

I have to remember to thank her. Harry looks at me, impressed and I could cry.

1010011010

We were served steak and it was delicious. After dinner, Elliot talks to Ange on the window sill, but I'm not panicking as much as I was earlier. "So can we see some of your art?" Lloyd asks.

"I haven't done anything in a while," I admit, trying not to retreat back into myself.

"We'd love to see anything," Gideon prompts.

I shrug and bring out my phone. I still have a photo album named art that I let them scroll through. The further back you go, the more realistic and picture perfect the paintings are. Only in the past year or so did I become an abstract artist, throwing color on the canvas, trying to get what was in my mind onto the canvas.

The TV clicks on and I look up, Elliot had just turned on the news. The blonde woman is telling us that new information in the hacking scandal has been released. There are emails naming Terry Colby as one of three E Corp executives that covered up the toxic waste scandal that caused employee deaths.

Elliot turns around, his new smile gone. He looks at us, looking at him and walks out.

"What's going on?" Ollie asks.

"That's how our mom and Elliot's dad, um. It's how we know each other. I have to go," she grabs her purse and reaches out to me.

"Wait! I'll go with you," Ollie says.

"No, I'd rather you didn't," Ange grabs at me.

I take her hand and we run after our friend, but we've lost him in the hustle and bustle of the overcrowded city. We go to the apartment, but he isn't there. I knock on Shayla's door: she hasn't seen him.

"I'm going to go home," Ange says. "Call me when he gets back."

I nod and let her leave. It's getting late so I take Flipper out. When I get back, Elliot still isn't home. I sit on the sofa and light up a joint. I hear a thud in my head, loud and ominous, every time a number on the clock changes. I pick up my phone and call Ange.

"Is he home?" she asks, voice hopefully.

I shake my head, but then remember that she can't see me. "No. I don't know where he is. Do you think we're really gonna get justice for mom?"

"I don't know," she sighs. "You don't remember her much, do you?"

"Not really," I admit. "I was only six, but I remember dad never being around."

"He had to support three kids on his own, Tara, he was working just as many jobs. Get some sleep; Elliot will come home," she tells me.

"Yeah, sure," I sigh and lay down wondering why I couldn't make myself feel better. I had a date with Elliot. I'm not living with my sister's judgmental stares, but I couldn't be happy the way Elliot was at that party.


	11. Episode 3- Elliot

Most people think debugging software is about fixing a mistake, but that's bullshit. Debugging's actually all about finding the bug, about understanding why the bug was there to begin with, about knowing that its existence was no accident. I don't know why I'm saying this, maybe it's cause of what they've got me pumped up on or maybe it's because it is a bug flyting towards me, gumming up the works until I'm forced to make a call. Kill me or embrace me. Or maybe I'm just freaking out because I never thought I'd wake up to find these two women staring back at me. The fly lands on my hand and I twitch my fingers to get it to fly away. Tara and Krista are staring at me intently.

"Are you alright?" Tara asks, her voice shaking.

"I don't know," I tell her. "What are you doing here?"

"We talked a few hours ago. You don't remember telling them to call Krista?" She tries to explain, but I don't understand. "Well you can't leave until you talk to a psychiatrist, so I'll wait outside."

"Do you remember requesting me from the staff?" Krista asks. "You requested me because the police say-"

"-that I jumped," I interrupt her, it's starting to come back. I wave my hand dismissively. "By a bunch of kids. Not the end of the world."

"They wanted to do a full drug panel and you refused. May I ask why?"

I turn my head away. Never tell a doctor you're on drugs unless they gave you the prescription.

"Elliot," she threatens like a mother. "If we can't have a conversation about this…"

"I've been taking morphine," I admit.

"Why?" she presses.

The light hurts and I want to go back to sleep. "I don't have a good enough reason to give you. I wish I did but I don't."

"Maybe we should consider rehab," Krista suggests.

"I'm not a junkie," I protest.

"Then you need to prove it to me. Submit a bimonthly drug test voluntarily. That's the only way I'm going to recommend your release," she states her terms.

I just want Tara to take me home. Hospitals like this are almost too easy to hack. William Highsmith is the IT department here. He's also an idiot. Not that I blame him because the people that hired him are also idiots. He gets a budget of about 7000 bucks a year and he's supposed to protect their network from people like me? He never stood a chance. It's one of the reasons I made this place my primary care facility. I can make my health records look like every other obedient zombie out there.

"Okay, you don't have to worry, I'm not gonna do morphine again." The lie was the easiest one yet.

1010011010

I sign some papers and they finally let me leave with Tara. We stop at a convenience store after we get off the subway because I can't remember the last time I had eaten. I ask for some cigarettes and pick out a five-hour energy.

"That's your breakfast?" Tara crinkles her nose. She grabs a Clif bar from the shelves under the counter and hits me with it playfully. "You need food."

She puts it on the counter and before I can pull out my credit card, she's thrown a crumpled bill on the counter along with the food.

I eat as we walk, weaving in and out of people on the sidewalk. "Have you finished moving in yet or did you not have anything left at Ange's?" I ask. She never gave me an answer about officially moving in, but she was already practically my roommate.

"I brought over a pillow, a razor, and a box of tampons." She chuckles and I can't help but to smile. She did tell me it was different actually living with somebody instead of just sleeping over.

We run into Shayla at the top of the stairs and she looks like she's been tweaking. "She used to be my emergency contact until I started spending all my time with you," I feel the need to tell Tara.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" she stops us. "Did you have something to do with Vera getting busted? Shit, Elliot, you said you weren't gonna do anything. He's on murder charges," she tells us. "Did you know that his whole crew bounced? I don't know what I'm gonna do for money now. Just tell me, Elliot and don't lie: did you do something?"

"No," I lie. "Are-are you okay, from everything?"

"I'm fine," she brushes me off. "What happened to your door?"

She's right, the door had been broken into. Slowly, I push it open and see Darlene sitting on my couch reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette.

"You're not supposed to be here," I walk up to her, not even thinking about it as a confrontation. "I changed the locks for a reason."

She shows me a picture in the magazine. "Jessica Alba says she wants to join ," she laughs. "Jesus, what happened to your face?"

"What the fuck is going on?" Tara demands.

"You need to leave," I tell Darlene again.

She looks at Tara and sneers. "Babe, not to be mean, but we have a lot of serious shit to discuss so if you wouldn't mind-"

I step in front of Tara defensively. "Get out," I snarl.

Clearly pissed, she gets up and heads to the door. "I suggest you get a grip."

I'm relieved that she's gone and go to pick up my backpack. "I gotta get to work."

"Work?" Shayla's voice nearly cracks. "You can't go to work!"

"Elliot, you could have died," Tara feels the need to remind me.

"I have to go!" I tell them again and leave them standing in the middle of the room with Flipper yapping. A bug is never just a mistake. It represents something bigger, a manner of thinking that makes you who you are.

1010011010

Gideon calls me into his office with Lloyd, Ange, and Ollie. "It's not enough just to focus your attention on the log," he explains to us about the security breech. "We should also monitor social media traffic as well as IRC. Set up scripts and keep going 24/7. We might get lucky. They might get sloppy and make a mistake."

This is the world we live in, people relying on each other's mistakes; manipulate one another, use one another, to relate to one another: the warm, messy circle of humanity.

"Elliot!" Gideon interrupts. "I'm, uh inviting you guys to dinner. Morton's notwithstanding, I cook a mean steak." I look at him. "What? Can't a boss invite his favorite employees to dinner?"

"No, no, that's cool, but I have plans," I lie followed by awkward silence.

"Can you guys give us a minute?" he asks and the other three file out. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Not really," I answer truthfully.

"You're missing work. You come in looking like that and you expect me not to ask questions? Look, I don't know how much you want me asking about your personal life-"

"Not at all actually," I interrupt. "I don't mean to be rude. I'm just being honest." I leave his office. Mr. Robot may have found Evil Corp's bug, but he didn't find mine. That's the only way to protect myself; never show them my source code. Close myself off. Create my cold, perfect maze where no one can ever find me. There's a man sitting at my desk. Shit.

"Elliot!" he grins up at me. "I cannot believe you work here. This place is a shithole. Though I'd swing by, take you to lunch." One of my coworkers walks by in a tight pencil skirt. "Ooo that's nice," he comments. "I think she likes ya, bud. Fine," he keeps going even when I glare at him. It works on everybody else, why not him? "But let the record show, I was trying to be a good wingman."

I grab him by his collar and lift him out of my chair.

"Woah, calm down. I'm not that into redheads anyway," he laughs. "Whole nation of Ireland makes my dick go soft."

"Leave," I demand.

"Darlene said we need to talk," he explains.

"Leave now."

"You're right," he nods his head eagerly. "We probably shouldn't talk here. Let's go to that bar next door."

I set him down and let him go. "I'm not leaving."

"And I'm not going anywhere until you do. So, I can stay here and cause a scene or you can give me five minutes at the bar next door." He keeps getting closer as he speaks. "Either way I'm gonna have fun; dealer's choice."

I begrudgingly follow him to the bar. There's one other person there and I can't help but wonder what's wrong with him that he's having a liquid lunch. I glare at Mr. Robot.

"What?" he points to his green drink. "It's an appletini."

"I should kick your ass," I say.

"If that'll make us square, you have my blessing," he continues sipping his drink, unperturbed.

"I really want nothing to do with you." He doesn't seem to get it.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks.

I didn't want anything when he ordered, I don't want anything now. "Um, nothing?"

"I recommend this," the asshole says.

"Fine, I'll uh have an appletini." What the fuck.

I down the drink like a shot and even that gets a comment from the older man.

"I don't think you enjoyed it. You're supposed to sip it," he says with a stupid grin sideways on his face.

"What do you want?" I demand having lost all my patience.

"I'm sorry about what I did," he tries to apologize.

I push the glass away from me. "I don't buy it. More importantly, I don't give a shit."

"I never wanted to hurt you," he tried again. "Your dad probably felt shitty for what he did. Probably wanted to apologize too. Sometimes pushing a kid away is just easier. Don't stay mad at him too long, kiddo." He gets up and walks to the door.

"You're leaving?" I follow him.

"That's what you want isn't it?"

"What about your plan?" I have to ask.

"Plan? You're the key to the whole thing. Without you there is no plan," he explains.

There's no way that's it. "That's it?" I have to ask again. "It's over. You expect me to believe that."

"See you in another life." He puts his hat on and disappears.

Did you heart that? I can't believe it. Is this really happening? 's finally over. I'll never slip up like that again. I'm gonna be more normal now. I'll go see those stupid Marvel movies with Tara. I'll join a gym. I'll heart things on Instagram. I'll drink vanilla lattes. I'm gonna lead a bug free life from now on. Anything to protect my perfect maze.

I get back to the office and head straight for Gideon's office. "Hey Gideon, is that dinner still on for tonight?" I ask.

He's taken aback. "Um, yeah. Sure. You wanna come?"

"Yeah," I grin at him. "Can I bring my girlfriend?" That's what normal people do, right? Bring their significant others to functions.

"You have a girlfriend?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Well, kinda," I admit. I had never really thought about Tara as my girlfriend, but I wanted to bring her to this thing. But we kinda live together, we get high together, we've watch movies, we have sex. Isn't that what a relationship is?

"Yeah, sure, perfect," Gideon agrees.

I can do this. "Thanks."

1010011010

I get home and Tara is high as a kite, but Flipper hasn't shat anywhere so at least she remember to take him out. I sit down on the sofa and she leans on me. I notice her sketchbook on the table and pick it up.

"My boss invited me to a dinner party at his house tonight. I thought you could come," I tell her and open the book.

"Why did you say yes?" she sighs. I should have known she wouldn't want to go.

The most recent drawing is of me sleeping in the hospital. "I need you," I try to explain. "I'm not good in social situations like that."

"And you think I am?" she laughs.

I thumb backwards through the pages. A couple are of my back in front of my computer. I had never noticed her drawing me. All of the sketches were of people, some of Ange, some of random people on the subway. Others must have come into the library. They were beautiful and they all looked happy. Nobody looks that happy. I thought I had solved her maze, but these drawings suggested there was more. "You know how to talk to people, you just choose not to. I don't know how to and I need the support."

"Fine, for you," she sighs. "But I'm not dressing up."

1010011010

Ollie and Angela are already standing outside when Tara and I get to Gideon's. Lloyd appears shortly after, bouncing with excitement.

"What up guys! Did you just get here?" he grins.

"Nice suit," Ollie checks him out.

"What is up with you? You've been fidgeting all night," Ange says, but is ignored.

Ollie, clearly annoyed tried the doorbell again and then pounded on the door.

Gideon isn't the one who answers. This must be his boyfriend? Husband? "Hey guys, how long have you been standing out here? The doorbell is broken, I should have warned you. Come in! I'm Harry, by the way."

We are all served wine and form a circle around the counter in the kitchen. I stand behind Tara because there aren't enough barstools for everyone. What now? I don't know if I'm supposed to say something, but luckily Harry begins asking everyone questions.

"Ollie, how long have you guys been together?" Harry looks over towards the couple.

"About two and a half years," he answers.

"-two years," Ange answers at the same time.

They act like they didn't notice that they had different answers, but I noticed. We all did and the awkward level rose drastically.

"Elliot, how long have you and Tara been together?" he tries again with us.

Shit. I never even asked her out. "Well, uh," I begin fidgeting. Maybe Tara will pipe in, confirm whatever it is we are. "A little while," I mumble into my hands when she doesn't.

It was extremely tense now and I wasn't sure if I could stand it much longer. Tara reaches back and my fingers find hers. At least we're nervous together.

"Okay, enough grilling of the guests," Gideon saves us. "Let's check on the real grill; Elliot, I could you your help."

He pulled me away so he could talk to me about the hackers. I knew this before he even opens his mouth. "So Elliot, I have a confession. I had an assistant in Dallas check that server again. Of course there was nothing. I have no idea what there was even to be suspicious about and what possible motivation would you have to do anything."

He has to let this go. If he goes anywhere near this hornet's nest I'm not sure if I can save him from it. I have to kill any suspicion left.

"You've been nothing but a hard worker for Allsafe," he continues. "So I apologize."

"After the conversation on the plane I knew what was at stake, the company," I lie. "I was worried that the dat file I found wasn't the right one and I just didn't want to get your hopes up in case I was wrong. That's why I didn't tell you before the meeting." Shit, I'm gonna have to let him hug me, aren't I?

"You're a brilliant engineer, Elliot," he says after pulling away from an awkward embrace. "You should never doubt your skills no matter how much pressure I put on you and you certainly don't have to keep anything from me. I care about you."

But he doesn't even know me.

1010011010

Dinner ends and everyone goes into the living room to keep talking. I break away and sit by the window, looking at the brilliant view of the city. Ange comes over and joins me. Soon, we're reminiscing about being kids. Everything was so much simpler then.

"Remember when we thought we were going to The Met?" I asked. "Somehow we ended up at the Queen's museum. No google maps back then."

"You wanted to bring Tara, but I said she'd just slow us down," Ange laughs. "I loved running away with you. Somehow when you're eight running is always fun."

The normal life, smile. Dinner parties. Childhood stories. I could get used to this. Maybe even like it. But nothing good lasts. My phone buzzes and I look at a text from an unknown number. It tells me to turn on the news. I stand up quickly and do as it says, hitting the power button on Gideon's TV remote.

"What's wrong?" Ange asks, but I don't answer.

The news anchor is reporting on Colby about the security hacks. Apparently, he is one of three Evil Corp execs that covered up the toxic waste scandal that killed my dad and Tara and Ange's mother. That ruined families.

My perfect maze crumbling before my eyes. There's nothing to hide behind. I didn't think it existed, but there it was is. He finally found my bug. I turn around and everyone is silently staring at me. I look to Tara and then to Ange and run out. The bug forces the software to adapt, evolve into something new because of it, work around it or work through it, no matter what. It changes, becomes something new. The next version. The inevitable upgrade.

I have to get back to . It's still early enough that I'm not alone on the train, but there's no black suits in sight. Inside the arcade, Darlene is playing ski ball and Mr. Robot is reading, neither of them notice me at first, but soon they all turn and stare. Without a word, I pull my laptop out of my backpack. We plug it into the network and I sit down in front of it.

"Here's the plan," I tell them as they all stand to look over my shoulder at the screen.


	12. Non Sequitur- Elliot

Tara is at the apartment when I get back. She was hanging up Flipper's leash. I look at how tight her jeans are and remember the feel of her beneath me. It had been a while. I turn her around and kiss her, pressing her up against the wall. I lick her upper lip and she lets me in, pulling off my hoodie in the process. I rip off her shirt and move her towards the bed. Her skin feels warm against my chest and I feel myself harden as I rub against her. I move to kissing her neck and she moans; the greatest sound I've ever heard. She claws at my belt and pulls my pants off and then shimmies out of hers while my hands grab every inch of her I can find.

I moan when I'm inside of her. She cries out with each thrust and I pin her down, enjoying every second of being this close to her. She bites my shoulder and tries to pull me closer, but there's no space between us left.

"Fuck," she moans and I come shortly after.

"You good?" I whisper in her ear.

"Yeah," she kisses my cheek and I feel her smile. "I'm good."


	13. Tara, Interrupted

Elliot had put on pants and was at his computer while I still reclined naked in his bed, but have moved enough to get a cigarette.

"What does my name mean?" he asks out of nowhere the same way he did when he asked me to translate bonsoir.

"God on high or some shit," I answer almost immediately.

"What about your name?"

"Bad ass bitch," I laugh.

"What is it really?"

"Queen or star which in my mind translates to bad ass bitch," I'm adamant about my title. I notice my left hand that's resting on my stomach, nails painted blue. It doesn't feel real, like it's not attached to me. It's not mine. It's not real. I press the cigarette down in the center of the back of the hand. I whimper in pain. The nerves inside are mine at least.

Elliot nearly knocks over his chair and he rushes to me. "What are you doing?" He demands as he takes my hand in his and brushes off the ash. He drags me to the kitchen, sticks my hand in the sink and turns on the faucet, submerging the burn in cold water.

There are tears welling up, but only because it hurt. I wasn't it expecting it to hurt. I don't know how to tell him what I was thinking. How do I explain that I thought my hand wasn't real, wasn't mine, wasn't part of me? So I kept quiet and let him be play doctor and cover the burn with a bandage. I lean toward and gently kiss his lips.

"It's not that bad," I try to tell him, but he won't look at me.


	14. Episode 4- Tara

It is ridiculously late when Elliot gets back. I had nearly fallen asleep waiting for him, but the click of the apartment door jars me into focusing. "Elliot, what are you involved in?" I ask, rubbing my eyes. It's exhausting being left out of the loop. He didn't have to tell me everything. I'm not the type that needs to know where he is every second every day, but I'd like to know about the important things in his life.

He shrugs, his hands still in his hoodie pockets, looking even more exhausted than usual.

"If you want me in your life you have to tell me things," I sigh. "I can keep your secrets."

"F. Society," he mumbles. "Don't be mad."

F. Society. The anonymous hacker group that was all over television. Sure, it's probably mad dangerous, but it's not a bad thing. It's not like he's killed anyone. "Mad?" I laugh. "The last guy I slept with was one of the city's leading gangbangers. You want to be a digital vigilante to save the world from itself? Good for you." What I probably should have added is that I still talk to him and he deals me drugs.

He sits down next to me on the sofa, his hands on his knees and our shoulders touching. He doesn't say anything at first and I think he's just going to leave it.

"I had forgotten about that," he grimaces.

I curled up against him, enjoying the warmth from his sweatshirt. I put my head on his chest, forcing one of his arms around me. "Shit happens," I breathe because I'm not sure what else to say.

Time passes and I close my eyes, but I don't fall asleep. It's the same comfortable silence that I was attracted to in the first place.

"Want to get high?" he asks me.

I nod my head and he moves to get the morphine and finally takes off his hoodie. The crushed up pill is sitting in two straight lines directly between us. It looks so innocent, soft and powdery. But drugs are a mess, a dangerous, disgusting mess.

"This is it," he announces. "The last lines." He sounds sad.

I had almost forgotten that Shayla's supplier was behind bars. I almost offer to let him do it all. Almost. Shit, this could kill him. He's actually addicted to the morphine; I survive fine on marijuana. Still, I bend over the coffee table anyway, and inhale.

1010011010

We had fallen asleep on the sofa, I was on top of him when Flipper woke us up. "Okay, okay," I tell her. "Let's go." I stand up and get her on her leash and then stumble around trying to find my shoes. "Elliot," I shake his shoulder. "Elliot!"

"What?" he groans and rubs his eyes.

"You're the one who kidnapped the dog, you gotta walk her with me," I tell him.

"Isn't that how you bond with Shayla?" he asks, but stands up anyway and takes the leash out of my hand.

"You know she isn't awake yet," I answer and push him out of the door.

It's already sunny out and it looks like it might turn out to be a warm day, for March anyway. Elliot stops in his tracks and I walk right into him. His elbow goes straight into my gut, knocking the window out of me so I can't even yell 'what the hell?' Elliot looks over his shoulder. He's looking past me like I'm not there at all. He turns around and starts walking back the way we came. I spin around and quickly follow.

"What do you want?" he yells at a man in a suit walking by.

I jump a bit, startled. "Elliot."

He looks back at the man who is now speaking to another in a dark coat and tie. "Huh?" he yells again at them.

"It's alright, Elliot," I speak softly to him.

"It's not alright," he growls at me. "I'm sick of them following me."

"Let's just go home," I suggest and cautiously reach out to touch his arm.

He pulls his arm away from my hand, but slips it around my shoulders instead and we walk back to the apartment in silence. But every few steps he glances over his shoulders and then quickens his pace and I have to struggle to keep up.

As he's letting Flipper off of her leash, someone begins pounding on the door. Not knocking nicely, latterly beating it as though they want to break it down.

"It's me! Open up!" A girl calls and I go over to open it.

"I'd have saved you the trip to the door," Darlene pushes past me into the apartment. "But you're all like against me breaking in or whatever."

"Why are you here?" Elliot asks.

"I'm here about some clarity on your little plan that needs your undivided," she answers, eyeing me and though she thinks I'll betray some major secret.

"Okay, let's go," Elliot shoulders his backpack.

Darlene doesn't follow right away. "What's going on with you? You look like shit."

"I'm fine," Elliot tells her. "I'll see you later," he says to me and then walks out the door.

 _Good_ I think. _I need a nap._

1010011010

Angela and I have agreed to set up weekly coffee dates since I was no longer living with her and Ollie. Today is our first one. We're sitting in a Starbucks of all places. I don't even like the coffee here, let alone the fact that there's never a moment of silence and that's just because of the door pinging. On top of that there's the mindless chatter and cell phones buzzing. The chair hurts my butt and the dry air is killing my sinuses. Why couldn't we have gone to one of those trendy hipster coffee places with paperbacks and couches?

"I still don't get why you moved in with him," Ange says holding her coffee with both hands and strands of blonde hair falling in her face. "Elliot?"

"Yeah, Elliot," I sigh and put the straw to my lips. "We get along well." We've actually started having full conversations. I guess it's not exactly normal to be friends with someone for nearly twenty years and not speak. But it's not like he had to tell me what he was feeling. Do I tell Ange? How do I explain that?

"Elliot, though? You know how screwed up he is right? Or did you fail to notice when you were riding him?" she sneers.

I nearly choke on my caramel iced coffee. That came out of left field. "He's almost as fucked up as I am. I get it," I admit to her.

"He can't take care of you," she softens her voice and reaches out to hold my hand, but I pull away.

"I don't need taking care of, I need understanding," I try to explain. "You're my sister, I want you in my life, but you can't be stressing me out like this. First you want me out of your apartment, now you're telling me I need you around. I need you to take care of me. Which is it, Ange?" I huff and leave the coffee shop and the rest of my coffee, pissed that she tried turning social hour into an intervention.

I push past people on the street, not caring if I elbow into them. I had to get to work. Josh doesn't know anything about me so he never looks at me with the judgment that shrouds Ange.

1010011010

The library is freezing and I sit at the circulation desk bouncing my legs, trying to stay warm because I hadn't thought to bring a jacket.

"Are you bored?" Josh asks.

"Bored and cold." I pull out my phone and debate whether or not I should text Elliot. I put the phone back in my pocket without even unlocking it. There's a poster on the wall I had never noticed before. A reproduction of a Degas painting. It's too far away to see it clearly, but I know what it's supposed to look like. I've seen it at the Met at least a dozen times.

I completely zone out staring at the mess of color which is somewhat strange since I'm not even high. Now some lady is trying to check out a book. She's wearing a pencil skirt and matching blazer. I look up and she is smiling expectantly. I wonder how long she's been standing there. I've read the book she's placed in front of me before. Twice actually. It's the Prose Edda. _I should say something_ , I think. But what should I say?

"Oh, I had to read this in grad school." Is that awkward? That was awkward.

"Really? What's your degree in?" the lady asks politely.

"Viking and Medieval studies," I respond, scanning the book and then her card. "My undergraduate was studio art and anthropology." Maybe I shouldn't have added that.

Her eyes light up. Maybe I am actually saying the right things. "You know, The Metropolitan Museum of Art has an opening, that's where I work. My name is Lacy Sears." She scribbles down a number and email address. "Call and tell them I let you know about the opening. They'll give you an interview. And send in your résumé."

I take the slip of paper from her. "Thanks. Thank you so much."

"Looks like I won't be seeing you around anymore," Josh offers a goofy grin when she's left.

"I have to actually get the job," I laugh. I look at the paper between my fingers, gently rubbing my thumb over it to make sure it's legit. The idea of having a job that could actually pay for rent excites me.

1010011010

Someone is knocking on the door, but I'm busy trying to get Flipper to stop jumping so I can get her on the leash. I had already texted Shayla to let her know we were going for a walk if she wants to join us. Finally I'm able to open the door to find Angela.

"He's not here," I tell her.

"How do you know I wasn't looking for you?" she replies.

"You would have called me," I answer.

"Where is he, then?" she asks.

I shrug and close the apartment door behind me just as Shayla is stepping out of her own apartment. "You can walk with us if you like."

"Sure, yeah. I gotta head back towards the subway anyway," Ange says.

Shayla laughs at my sister. "Oh we don't plan our path. I mean, we just kinda wing it and see where the moment takes us."

She heads out first and I'm left with Angela and yappy Flipper. "Glad you're making friends," Ange mutters.

I shrug again because there's really no good response.

Flipper leads us to the park and I'm sweating by the time we get there. _It's March_ I think about it. _There's something wrong here._

"Here," Shayla puts something in Ange's hand. "You want?" she asks me.

"Sure," I put out my palm and she puts a tiny, round, pastel pill in the center of my hand. I throw it into my mouth and dry swallow it. "You still have stuff left?"

"Little of this. Little of that," she grins.

"What is this?" Ange asks.

"Come on. They're my lasts ones." Shayla picks a park bench and sits down.

"Is this ecstasy?" my sister whispers, suddenly even more nervous than before.

Shayla shakes her head. "No, it's clarity. It'll help you see past whatever's bringing you down. Tara's all about it."

"I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude, but I don't do drugs," Ange tells her. "Well, I smoke weed, but- Tara you shouldn't be getting high all the time either!"

"No one should be getting high all the time," I answer, already feeling my anxiety leave me. "Don't make a special case for me."

"No take backs," Shayla tells her. "Besides, don't you want to figure your shit out?" Shayla takes hers and then Angela follows suit. "We should go out tonight."

"You two go out. I'm going to take Flipper home," I excuse myself. Sure, I'm high, but I'm exhausted from making the effort to be around people. By the time I get back, I still haven't heard from Elliot and it doesn't look like he's been home. _Just let me know you're alright_. I text him. I've been worried since the other morning when he started yelling. It had been awhile since I've heard him yell. I should have asked where he was going.


	15. Episode 4- Elliot

I am such a shitty boyfriend. Boyfriend? Roommate? I could be her husband and she'd probably introduce me as her friend, but at least she's there. She's always there. Me? I just wander off. I took her to a dinner party as my date and then disappeared! When I do get home, she's there with Flipper. I don't deserve this. It scratches my brain why Tara even bothers. I'm sure has other people to hang out and get high with. Why me? If she's sticking around I should probably officially ask her to be my girlfriend. That would be the normal thing to do, right? Though I suppose you usually ask someone to go out with you and then ask them to move in.

When I finally get back to the apartment Tara is suspicious and rightly so. "Elliot, what are you involved in?" she asks.

I shrug. I don't really want to answer that.

"If you want me in your life you have to tell me things," it sounds almost like a threat. "I can keep your secrets."

"F. Society," I answer quietly. "Don't be mad at me."

She laughs, but I don't understand what's funny. "Mad? The last guy I slept with was one of the city's leading gangbangers. You want to be a digital vigilante to save the world from itself? Good for you."

I sit next to her on the couch, irked at being reminded about him. When she got back from grad school she fell in with a rough crowd. I barely ever saw her then. "I had forgotten about him." I say, disapprovingly.

"Shit happens," she responds nonchalant.

"Want to get high?" I ask and she nods.

The powder line is laid out on the mirror in front of us. "This is it," I say more to myself than Tara. "The last line."

We split it and I wait for the high. The high that'll make me forget how much tomorrow is gonna suck. I'll just have to get through a few days and then I'll be clear. I'll be clean.

1010011010

"Elliot," Tara wakes me up after having fallen asleep on the couch.

"What?" I rub my eyes, trying to wake myself up.

"You're the one who kidnapped the dog, you gotta walk her with me," she says.

She's right and I get up and grab Flipper's leash. "Isn't that how you bond with Shayla?"

"You know she isn't awake yet," she puts her hands on my lower back and shoves me outside.

Walking towards me I see him: black coat, white shirt, tie. I stop and look behind me. There's another one. Shit. I turn around and start walking back towards the smaller looking one. "What do you want?" I scream at him. I look back at him after I've walked by and he's speaking to the one other one. "Huh?"

"It's alright, Elliot," Tara tries to tell me.

"It's not alright," I cry. "I'm sick of them following me."

"Let's just go home," she touches my arm.

I pull it away so I can put it around her shoulders instead, to protect her. I keep looking behind us to make sure we're not being followed, but there are no men in suits to be seen.

Inside, I let Flipper off the leash and someone begins banging on the door. I freeze. Maybe they did follow me.

"It's me! Open up!" Darlene voice calls on the other side.

I let out a sigh of relief as Tara answers the door.

"I'd have saved you the trip to the door, but you're all like against me breaking in or whatever," Darlene invites herself in.

"Why are you here?" I ask.

"I'm here about some clarity on your little plan that needs your undivided." I think she enjoys having secrets.

"Okay, let's go," I jump up and grab my backpack.

"What's going on with you?" Darlene asks. "You look like shit."

"I'm fine," I lie. "I'll see you later," I tell Tara before heading out.

1010011010

At the arcade, Romero is convinced my plan won't work so I have to ask why.

"I was doing recon on Steel Mountain and came up with a problem, a real fat one. Evil Corp is upping their security protocol. If you ask me its overkill, but it's legit."

"I already told you they have their vulnerabilities," I respond.

"After we hack the New York facility, then we have to take a trip to Nashville, then Colorado, then San Jose, then goddamn Tallahassee," he explains.

"Oh this looks real bad, real bad," Mr. Robot states the obvious about the papers we're looking at.

"Where did you get this?" I ask.

"What the hell do you mean? We're still in Evil Corps network," Romero glares at me.

"Shit. This is what Tyrell was talking about." Shit. I just said that out loud.

"What'd you say?" Romero jumps on me. "Tyrell? As in Tyrell Wellick?"

I bite my lip. "Ya."

"Since when did you and the goddamn CTO of Evil Corp become what, chums?" he hisses.

I ignore him. I need to solve this puzzle. "It says this isn't happening until April 1st. It's on the 29th. We've still got a few days. We have time if we go up today."

"We're nowhere close to being ready," Romero protests.

"I've already downloaded all the necessary pdfs of floor plans," Mobley chimes in.

"It shouldn't take me long to own the data facility's network," Trenton adds. "With some help."

Darlene rolls her eyes. "You guys hit the road while Trenton helps me finish the disk drive. We'll double time it."

"The plan will work," I have to convince myself if I want to convince them.

"Once we're there I still have to prep the social engineering plus we have no idea who's physically gonna go in," Romero adds another problem to the growing list.

"It's my plan I'll go in," I volunteer.

"Look man, you might be able to hide it from these nerds, but I know a junkie when I see one. You're in no condition to do Jack or Jill except puke your brains out or give hand jobs for another high," Romero takes me aside.

I've convinced myself I can work through it. "In three days one steel mountain becomes five that's not good for any plan."

1010011010

The guys have left to acquire a car and the girls are trying to make contact with Darlene's guy.

"Yo man, you gonna say anything about this?" I ask Mr. Robot.

"What's there to say?" he responds. "You seem to have everything under control."

"Ya. Okay. This isn't my operation." I end up doubled over, coughing.

"I told you before, you're the key to the whole thing. You're the only force of nature at play here."

1010011010

It's dark and we're still a while off from Albany. I'm sitting in the back of the minivan with Mr. Robot, trying not to throw up. I wish I was back in the city with Tara's arms around me. I can't hold it in. I vomit on the floor.

I'm not really coherent, but they bring me to a motel room. "I just need to rest a minute okay?" I hear myself say. "I'll be fine."

"In a couple hours you'll wish you felt as shitty as you do right now," Romero growls. "Wait 'til the convulsions start. Full body pain, leaking from everywhere-"

 _-hypersensitivity to brightness and sound._ I pull my hoodie off over my head. _After that, overwhelming paranoia followed by the darkest of depression._ It's so hot I take off my shirt too and lay on the bed. _Symptoms may persist for two weeks. Yeah, I know what's in store._

"You're not gonna be good for anything til we kick this," Mr. Robot says.

I have the chills and I'm sweating, but it feels worse than any fever I've ever had. _Maybe this was all intentional, my subconscious running in the background making me doubt what I led everyone else to believe in turning me into the physical manifestation of my fear._

I hear the others talking, but it's just white noise until Mr. Robot says fine: "You wanna leave? Leave!"

"I need a hit," I tell him. "I'll be better. Just to get me through this."

"I can't let you do that," he replies.

"One hit. Just to get me back on the road," I plea and sit up in the bed. "We don't have time for this. It needs to happen now. One hit."

Mr. Robot pulls me out of the taxi. My arm is over his shoulders. He's helping me to stand. He's talking to a guy in front of a shady house. He hands him money.

"When you're done, you leave," Mr. Robot says. "You don't look at anyone, you don't talk to anyone. You get your fix and you get out. Nod if you understand."

A cloud of haze sits inside the house. There are F. Society tags above a door.

"Hey, big eyes."

The guy is sitting in an armchair that looks like it belonged to my grandmother.

"It's all good man."

"I need morphine."

"This is all we got right here. It's better, trust me." He reaches out to me.

I take the syringe.

The girl sitting next to him stands up. "I'll help. It'll be okay, I'll help."

 _What must you think of me? I know I promised my last line, but-_

She's leaning in. Her lips touch mine. She climbs onto my lap. Her lips press harder and my tongue is no longer in my own mouth. She screams and rolls off of me. Two gun shots, she screams again. I try to move and feel pain rip through my shoulder followed by the sound of another gunshot. The weather is on TV. It changes to the F. Society masked man.

"Dear Brothers and Sisters, now is the time to open your eyes. If you have not yet woke up to the reality of profiteering and enslavement, I hope you realize you are fast running out of time. The governments of the world and their corporate masters do not want us to speak. Why? Because we are their truths. We expose villains. We exorcise demons. Citizens of the world, we are here to help. If you have any interest in waking from your slumber and retrieving lost, stolen, or damaged memory, we are here for you. We have your back. We are F. Society."

The masked F. Society character is standing in front of a camera on a tripod. He puts a key on a chain around my neck.

"What does it open?"

He takes off his mask and hands it to me. There's another one underneath.

"It belongs to you now. I made it just for your head. Find your master. Turn the key. But first, a word from our corporate overlords."

A commercial for Evil Corp plays.

I am walking down the sidewalk in a neighborhood. In the plot where one of the houses should be there is a telephone pole. A piece of white paper is stapled to it.

Error 404

Not found

A little girl on a scooter. She's humming. She stops and looks at me.

"Hello. Hello, friend."

"But we're not friends."

"Can you tell me what happened to that house?"

"First can you tell me, what's your monster? I think you dropped this."

She hands me a key. I put it in my hoodie pocket. She rides off. Her tune is stuck in my head.

I hum Frère Jacques.

I keep walking and open the door to my apartment. Tyrell Wellick sits at my computer screens.

"Don't be shy, now. You can come closer."

I sit on the sofa next to Qwerty.

"Unsettling, I know, your pet beta fish chatting you up, but time's money, Elliot."

"You need something? Your water? Does it need changing?"

"Living in a fish bowl there ain't no such thing as change. My entire life's been spent in this thing. My whole world's on your side table. I look around, same shit, different day. The lighting, the furniture, even the sounds; always the same. I'm on a loop that won't stop unless my life does. I'm exhausted with this world."

"What can I do? I wanna help?"

"I think it's pretty obvious. There's only one thing you can do for a brother in a fish bowl."

"What is it?"

"Move it to a goddamn window!"

I'm sitting across from Ange at a restaurant. There's barriers between each patron. On my sides. In between me and Ange. She's eating fish.

"Angela, he's my friend!"

"Yes, and he's delicious."

Her fork is held out to me, white meat on it. Fish

Little me is at a table with my mother. She's trying to feed me. I won't open my mouth.

"Piping hot so consume with caution. Pop's famous raspberry pie. Enjoy."

A slice of pie is placed in front of me. I bite in. I crunch on something metallic. I pull the key out of my mouth.

"Yes. Yes."

Angela is standing up.

"Elliot, I do."

The restaurant starts clapping. Everyone is standing. I'm excited.

"Elliot I do!"

She hugs me. I follow her out of the restaurant.

I enter the arcade.

Tara is there. I expected Ange. She's wearing I white dress. She looks magnificent. I look down. Under my hoodie is a tux.

"Those people in there, I just told them what they wanted to hear. You're not gonna do it are you? Change the world. You're afraid. Afraid of your monster. Do you even known what it is? It didn't fit."

She holds out the key. I take it.

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're not Elliot."

The lights go out. I can't see.

"Hello?"

There's children laughing.

"Hello?"

The camera is still there. The mask is hanging from the tripod.

 _Am I still alone? Is this the face of my only friend? Are you my monster?_

I put it on.

I wake up and I'm in the motel room covered in cold sweat. How much of that did I imagine? Was none of it real? "I'm alone," I say out loud to the empty room. I pull my knees to my chest and rock back and forth. I try not to cry, but I can't help it. "I'm alone." This is how I got into this mess in the first place.

"No you're not," Mr. Robot says. I hadn't noticed him in the dark. "I'm not going anywhere, kiddo. We're in this til the end."

He's not Tara, but it'll have to do.


	16. Flashback to 2011- Tara

I was terrified. Excited, but terrified. Dad couldn't come see me off, but Ange, Tyler, and Elliot went to the airport with me. At the time I was on meds for my anxiety. Prozac, that was before we knew I was bipolar, which explained why the Prozac never seemed good for me. My doctor had been in communication with one in England so at least that was sorted, but this morning I took more than I was supposed to and now felt a bit drowsy and loopy.

JFK Airport felt cold. It was actually warm inside with everyone checking in for their flights and running around trying to find where they were supposed to be. It took us twenty minutes to find the gates for international flights. So I guess it wasn't cold, it was empty. The voices seemed to echo off the tile floor and high ceilings. I was shivering.

"You're going to be fine," Ange reassured me.

I nodded, but couldn't find the words to agree. Nottingham was a long way from New York City. I hugged her as tightly as I could. It would be a full year before I'd be home. It didn't seem like a big deal at first, going to grad school in another country, going to a university I had never been to before. Now that I was actually going, I thought differently. I had no idea what to expect, but no American or Canadian college offers Viking Studies as a program.

Tyler hugged me next. "Call me. All the time," he demanded. "And if you need anything I'll be on the next plane out."

"I love you," I told him. We had gone to separate colleges, but I would still get to see him every couple months when I came home on break. I had never been apart from him for even close to a year.

"I love you too, sis," he mumbled into my neck.

I stood awkwardly in front of Elliot, the last of the receiving line. "You're going to write me letters, right?" He asked.

It was a month ago we had been talking about the honesty and authenticity of letters and the beauty of pen pals. I felt like I had only just agreed to write him when I went away, as we smoked a bowl on the fire escape outside of my room.

"Of course," I stepped closer wondering if he'd let me hug him.

His arms wrapped around me and he squeezed. Surprised, I took a second to put my own arms around his waist. I squeezed back until Ange told me if I want to get through security in time to board my plane, I'd have to leave now.

"I'm gonna miss you," I said to all of them and then hurried off to wait in line for security.


	17. Episode 5- Tara

I feel the phone vibrating before it registers that it's my phone and I'm getting a call. I fumble with it for a minute before I can answer.

"Tara?" It's Ange. "I broke up with Ollie."

I close my eyes and breathe deep. _Maybe this is still a dream, I haven't woken up yet. Maybe I'll never wake up, I'll spend my life in this suspended dream state. Maybe I'm dead. Oh God, what a relief._

"I'm sorry," I say.

 _No, don't wake up. This sucks. I suck. Life sucks._

"Can you come over?" she asks. "I'm packing right now. I'm gonna go to Dad's."

The apartment is still dark, but it has to be late morning by now. I find myself questioning whether there are actually windows or not. "Yeah, let me get dressed." I end the call, but I still don't move. _What would happen if I didn't show up?_ I think because I want to be here when Elliot finally gets back and he's been gone a while. _What if he never comes back? God, I fucked this up too, didn't I?_ I look down at my phone, about to call Shayla and see that I have a text. It's from Elliot.

 **I'm alive.**

I nearly cry; of course he's coming back.

I dial Shayla's number, pulling the sheet to my chin in hopes that if I accidently fall back asleep, I'll have the legitimate excuse of being unconscious instead of choosing not to go when I was doing absolutely nothing else.

"Hey, can you watch Flipper this morning?" I ask.

"Sorry, I'm starting my new job today. I'm gonna be a waitress!" she answers. "Why did you guys get a dog if no one's ever around to look after it?"

"We didn't. Elliot kind of kidnapped her from some asshole," I try to explain without selling him out.

Shayla explodes into laughter. "He's a good guy. Sorry I can't help out."

"It's alright," I tell her. "I'll figure something out."

1010011010

"Alright Flipper, let's go," I say to the pup as I clip the leash onto her collar. I make sure to lock the door behind me and pray it's not too cold because I left my jacket inside. The logical thing to do would be to go back inside and grab it since I hadn't yet left the building, but I turn and follow Flipper down the stairs and onto the noisy sidewalk.

After she does her business, I put her in my oversized purse and head down into the subway. I realize something, sitting by myself on the train; Shayla is an actual friend, I'm not using Ange as a crutch, and I've managed to keep the pets alive. Dr. Gordon would be proud.

By the time I get to Ange and Ollie's place, she is already waiting for me. She's sitting on the building's stoop with her duffle bag. Flipper rushes towards my sister, excited about her new friend, while I'm still trying to stomp out my cigarette.

"So, Dad's, huh?" I say instead of a proper greeting.

She sighs, picking up her bag and slinging it across her shoulder. "Yeah, it's not like I can move in with you."

I laugh, but it sounds as forced as it is and I hope she doesn't notice. "Yeah, sorry. So do you want to get coffee or are you headed straight to Penn Station?" I'm honestly not sure why she called me over. She could have ranted about what a dipshit Ollie is over the phone.

"I was hoping you'd come to Jersey with me, but I don't think NJ Transit is a fan of dogs on their trains." Ange eyes Flipper like the dog could pee on her Kate Spade flats at any moment.

"Well Shayla had to get a real job and she can't be left alone for too long, but it's alright because she fits in my purse," I tell her and somehow agree to escort her to our Dad's place. "I always knew carrying giant bags was good for something. It just took me twenty-seven years to find out what," I add in an attempt to lighten the mood.

She laughs a genuine laugh. "God, we're getting old, aren't we?"

"Yeah, you're ancient," I grin and bump shoulders with her.

Flipper understands and yaps happily alongside us.

1010011010

After an hour on the train and another fifteen minute cab ride, we are standing outside of his house. I hadn't spoken to Dad in about a year. It's not that I was ignoring him or mad at him. I just never bothered to call and he hadn't bothered to call either.

Angela rings the doorbell like it's not a problem, but I'm not really looking forward to this reunion.

"Hi pumpkin," Dad hugs her. "And my other pumpkin!" He envelopes me when he sees that I'm standing there.

"I can't breathe," I mumbled with my face pressed into his chest.

He chuckles and squeezes me tighter. Finally he releases me and looks at my sister, eyebrows knit together. "Why aren't you at work?"

"I broke up with Ollie," she answers.

"I know, I just got off the phone with him. Come on in," Dad ushers us inside.

Ange flops onto the couch, head at one end, feet at the other, taking up the entire thing. That means I have to sit in the chair across from Dad's chair. It's a squishy chair so it's not bad, but I prefer sofas so I can huddle myself into the corner and lean away from the conversation into the armrest.

"What did he say?" she asks Dad about Ollie.

"He was sobbing. He wanted me to tell you something like 'I'll always love you. Please come back' oh and 'he'll learn to forgive you.'" Dad chuckled.

Ange giggled too. "Of course, what did you say?"

"I told him I thought you should have broken up with him a long time ago and hung up on him. What did he mean?" he asks.

"Oh you know, ordinary work, money stuff. And he cheated on me so there's that," she responds.

I recognize the deflection right away. It's a classic. Casually throw in a phrase that you know will get the other person going therefore drawing the spotlight away from yourself or your exploits. I used it on Ange all the time when I was living with her and Ollie.

"Well the cheating, I'm not surprised," Dad shrugs. "As for the money, I'll float you some-"

"Dad, no!" Ange half-heartedly protests.

"-for professional development," he continues anyway. "Call it a loan, but you're not paying me back and you'll stay here and commute until you can save up."

 _Shit,_ I think. _It had never occurred to me to ask Dad for money or even stay with him until I was back on my feet._ My sister doesn't ask, she just receives.

"Dad, I can't make you do any of that," she says.

"And you aren't. I want to. Are you guys hungry?"

"Yes!" I grin.

Ange agrees too and begins to stand up to help.

"No, no. Sit, relax," Dad orders. "What would you like."

"You don't need to cook for me, Dad," Ange shakes her head.

"Tara?" he looks towards me.

I shrug. "You know you could give me a jar of peanut butter and a spoon and I'd be happy."

It works and he laughs. "French toast coming up."

He disappears into the kitchen and I turn to Ange. "Money and work stuff?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," she hisses. "Just leave it alone."

"You're a terrible liar," I tell her and go to join my dad in the kitchen.

"So how have you been, bud?" he asks without turning around. "I haven't heard form you in a while."

"I'm alright. I moved in with Elliot," I tell him.

"Elliot? Is he your boyfriend?" he beings the interrogation and I know I should have kept my mouth shut.

I lean on the counter, closer to him. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

He laughs, knowing my lack of history in the dating department. "I'm just saying, I'd like to walk at least one of my daughters down the aisle before I go. Your sister can never pick a decent guy, and you never pick anybody so when you do it'll mean something."

"Thanks for the pep talk," I roll my eyes. "I'll be keeping your other daughter company."

1010011010

The subway is a lot colder than Transit. It's a lot later than I thought it would be when I finally got back to the city and all I can think about is getting home.

Sitting across from me on the train is everyone I've ever slept with, arranged neatly in chronological order from most recent to the loss of my virginity. I notice that Elliot is missing from the lineup. It's Billy who speaks to me first.

"What are you doing, Tara?" he asks. "Playing house? You know you're not cut out for that. You belong with me, Kev, and the boys. You're a street girl, why are you trying to conform?"

Next to him is my grad school fling, Tyrell. "Why did you leave? Right now, we could be ruling the world together. If only you gave me a little more."

And so it went down the line, each one berating me for not committing to them. Somehow, after they had all said their piece, Elliot had entered the train car although I didn't notice a stop. He was dressed in a tux with a bow tie and no black hoodie. He stands in front of me close enough that we're almost touching. I reach out to caress his face.

"It's okay," he tells me as blood bubbles from his lips. "I forgive you."

The blood continues to spill from his mouth, dribbling down his chin and onto his white shirt.

"Elliot!" I cry as if that will someone save him.

It's too late though, he's already dropped to his knees and his eyes are rolling back into his head.

I jerk awake, feeling my heart pounding against my chest. I look about, trying to get my bearings until I am convinced that it was only a dream. There is only one other person on the train, a young guy who obviously thinks he's street, but his kicks are too nice and his earrings to big. That doesn't mean he can't be a gang-kid, only that he's not on top.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Fine," I tell him. "Didn't realize I had fallen asleep."

"Cute dog." He nods towards Flipper. Her head is poking out of my purse, resting on the edge of the bag. The rest of her body is hidden inside and she does look pretty adorable. "Can I pet him?"

"She doesn't like strangers," I lie and reach into the bag as though I'm going to pet her myself. Instead, my fingers grope for my roll of pennies. I feel the paper lining and wrap my hand around it, fitting it perfectly into my palm. As I stand, I use the movement to slide my hand out of my purse and down to my side, where the boy won't see the weapon.

"This your stop?" he tries talking to me again.

"Yep," I lie. It's a stop to early, but I don't want to be alone with him. "Lucky I woke up when I did."

The train jerks to a stop and I have to use my non-dominate hand to grab the pole and support myself. I book it off the train and out of the subway station. I let both my hands fall to my sides, taking comfort in the weight in my fist. I don't let Flipper walk on her own either, afraid her stubby legs will slow us down. I'm too scared to look back and see if he followed me so I just keep my head down, trying to disappear into the crowd of night dwellers.


	18. Episode 5- Elliot

I have a text from Tara wanting to know that I'm alright. I'm not, not really and I've been trying really hard not to lie to her. So what do I say? I dreamed of you in a wedding dress. No, I type: I'm alive. My thumb hovers over pressing send. What does a normal person say when they could end up in jail before the night is over? A normal person wouldn't be in this situation. I press the blue button.

 _Steel Mountain. We're trying to penetrate a data facility whose tagline literally is "impenetrable." Nothing is actually impenetrable. A place like this as it is, is close, but people still built this place and if you can hack the right person, all of a sudden you have a piece of malware. People always make the best exploits. If you listen to them, watch them, their vulnerabilities are like neon signs screwed into their heads._

Mobley's going over the plan, again, explaining who I'm supposed to talk to and how I'm going to get past them. I'm not really paying attention. I know all of this already. I'm handed an earpiece.

"So you can hear us, we can hear you," Mr. Robot tells me.

"Sure you don't wanna look over the info on the map again?" Romero asks.

"I got it," I tell him. The back of the van is cramped, but I'm not sure if I'd rather be in here or out there.

"Okay James Bond, let's go mess this shit up," Romero grins.

"Mister Sepiol?" Our guy approaches me. "Sam Sepiol? Sir?"

"That's you, Elliot!" Mr. Robot yells in my ear.

"Okay," I say. This is a disaster.

"Sorry you had to wait. As you can see there's always a lot of bustle here. How can I help you today?" he asks, awfully happy for a zombie.

I stand up to face him. "Um, a tour."

"Oh, okay," his eyes lose their light, but he remains friendly. "I'm sure they told you at reception we require appointments for tours. My supervisor gives us all a hard time about that."

"I'm Sam Sepiol," I repeat as though it means something. "You should look me up."

"Tell you what, have your company call over the new accounts and we can set something up later this week. Ask for Bill Harper, you'll know where to find me," he chuckles, but I missed the joke.

Mr. Robot it feeding me lines, but they don't translate.

"I really think you should look me up," I repeat myself.

"It just doesn't work like that. I'm sorry, sir, you take care, okay?" He leaves me to show myself out.

"I'm coming out," I say for the benefit of the guys in the van. "It's not working."

"It's gonna work, hang in there," Mr. Robot assures me.

I look back and see Bill is looking up Sam Sepiol. _It's no wonder Wikipedia's never accurate. Anyone can edit them, well not anyone. Mobley's built a lot of credit over the years with his 20,000 edits. And people still trust it._ We made a page for Sam Sepiol, billionaire tech. There's a list of my accomplishments including a headshot and birthday; November 19th. _I probably shouldn't have picked a date that means something to me, but how else would I remember it?_

"Mr. Sepiol!" Bill calls, running back to me. "I have some good news."

1010011010

This tour is awkward and boring and filled with useless information. Mr. Robot chimes in. "Nows the time to get rid of Bill. Okay? We're gonna have to roll up our sleeves here. You have to destroy Bill in order to get to his supervisor."

"I'd like to see Level Two," I mention.

"Oh, that's not part of the tour. Even I don't have authorization," he explains.

"He's not gonna take you for ice cream. He has to go away," Mr. Robot persists. "There's no place in this plan for Bill."

Bill notices that I'm no longer following him. "Everything okay, sir?"

"You need to tear Bill down piece by piece," I listen to my instructions. "You need to wipe that smile off his stupid face."

I understand, but I can't find the words.

"Sir, are you okay? You're not saying anything," Bill is trying to get my attention.

"Dig into him, Elliot. You of all people can do this. Elliot, you know how it feels when someone makes you feel small. You understand what if feels like when someone exposes the thing you fear most about yourself." _Is that Mr. Robot or my own inner monologue?_

"Think about it, Bill," I start. "If you died, would anyone care? Would they really care? Maybe they'd cry for a day, but let's be honest, no one would give a shit; they wouldn't. The few people that would feel obligated to go to your funeral would probably be annoyed and leave as early as possible. That's who you are. That's what you are. You're nothing to anyone; to everyone. Think about it, Bill. And if you do, if you let yourself, you know I'm telling the truth. So, instead of wasting any more of my time, I need you to call someone that matters because, Bill, you don't." I can't look at him. Those are horrible things to say to somebody. It hurts when I say them to myself; I never thought they'd come out like that, though.

"Don't apologize," Mr. Robot orders. "You're almost there. You did great."

It's not Wendy who shows up.

"I'm the account supervisor," she introduces herself by her title. "Is there a problem here?"

"Mr. Sepiol wished to speak to someone more senior than me," Bill explains, sounding like he's about to cry.

"I don't seem to have your name," she checks her clipboard.

"Sam Sepiol. I need Wendy, actually." I'm fumbling over my words now.

"How do you know Wendy?" Great, now she's suspicious. "She didn't come in today. What is it that you need, Mr. Sepiol?"

"I would love a tour of Level Two," I answer.

"We don't allow that," she snaps. "I'll see you out. Follow me to the lobby. You can go, Bill."

 _Fuck, we are so screwed. I wasn't the best choice for this._

The elevator arrives and her phone buzzes. "I have to go, sorry. Reception will see you out." She runs down the hall, back to her office.

The guys send me to a stairwell that leads up to Level Two if I can pick the lock, but these only go out to the parking lot. I exit from the door I entered ready to look for the other stairs, but find myself only a foot away from Tyrell.

"Elliot. I thought I saw you. What are you doing here?"

 _Did he know I was gonna be here? Does he know why I'm here? Shit, he's gonna kill me._ "Just a routine data process check. Allsafe does them all the time," I lie.

"Why would they send you? That type of thing isn't usually handled by the engineers, is it?" he asks, but at least he sounds like he believes me.

"We've been overlapping a lot in our duties. Budget stuff," I explain, further digging the hole I'm in.

"It seems we both had the idea to work off site today. Let's call this fortuitous. Join me for lunch?"

"Sure," I hear myself say. "I eat lunch."

He chuckles. "So you are like the rest of us." He leads me to the cafeteria, where everyone else in the building eats their lunch. "What can I get you, Elliot?"

In my ear, Mr. Robot reminds me that even Tyrell Wellick has a weakness; he cares what people think of him, even me.

"You eat here?" I ask him.

1010011010

For once I seemed to have said something right because we're sitting in the executive lounge on Level Two.

"I'm impressed you came all the way out her," he tells me. "Allsafe is finished, but you won't let it die. We're the same. We're perfectionists."

When I don't respond he beings picking apart the waiter, criticizing everything about the man's life. I can't remember the last time I was this uncomfortable. I had gotten used to having Tara nearby. Our food arrives, but I barely notice it.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I announce and practically run down the hall.

I vomit in the sink as soon as I push through the door. _Goddam withdrawals. Or is it Tyrell Wellick? Is he toying with me? What kind of game are we playing?_ I notice the maintenance door is ajar. I rinse out my mouth and begin taking apart the thermostat. I work as quickly as I can, but I hear someone before I can finish putting hit back together. I return to the bathroom as Tyrell opens the door.

"I had to wash my face," I try to explain my absence. "It's hard to breathe in here."

He doesn't seem concerned. "I know you framed Terry Colby," he says while taking a piss. "Your father worked at Evil Corp before he died; that's a matter of public record. I'm not turning you in if that's what you're thinking. I don't have proof and even if I did, I don't care. I just wanted to know your weakness. Now I do; revenge. How ordinary, but even extraordinary people are driven by human banalities and unfortunately, we are all human; except me of course. I'm joking, Elliot. Enjoy your long drive back home. I'm having a helicopter take me back to New York."

Finally he leaves and I'm able to finish what I started.

1010011010

It's getting late and I hope Tara will still be awake when we get back. _She's too good for me. I disappear all the time and when I get back, there she is, waiting, taking care of Flipper and making sure Qwerty gets fed. I know she has her bugs, but why was this good thing happening to me. I'm not even good at platonic relationships, I would forget to talk to Angela, but Tara; she's safe. The safest person I know. It scratched my brain. I don't deserve this, her understanding her empathy. When I'm home, with her, I feel normal. Why do I get to feel like this? Does she feel the same? It's hard sometimes to see where she stands; if it's a good day or a blue day._

At the arcade Darlene announces that we're good to go on destroying Steel Mountain.

"And yet I hear no applause," Mr. Robot jokes.

"We lost, China. The Dark Army is bailing," Darlene explains.

"Why?" Mr. Robot demands.

Darlene shrugs. "They don't answer whys apparently. The point is, it's not happening. But we could execute now."

Mr. Robot shot her down. "We move forward now, China still holds the redundant information. It'd be pointless."

"And if we wait it'll also be pointless!" she argues. "Everything you guys did today would be for nothing."

"It will have no effect!" our leader yells.

"It will take down their network for weeks!" Darlene yells back.

"They'll recover!"

"It would still hurt them!"

Mr. Robot is throwing hardware in rage now. "We don't want to hurt them. We want to kill them!"

Darlene rushes to the counter and opens a laptop. "And neither will happen if we do nothing."

"Think about what you're doing, alright?" Mr. Robot pleads. "They'll be up and running again in a month with better security. We've only got one shot at this. The revolution will have failed. It'll be dead and buried. Please, do not do this. Is there anyone here who can communicate with this woman?"

I go and stand next to her.

"Tell me to hit execute?" she says.

I say nothing and she closes the laptop. "We were so close."

"It's not over," I tell her. "We can rework it. We'll figure something out. We'll find a way, just not tonight."

Everyone splits and I remember Darlene has no place to go. "You can crash at my place," I offer because she's so upset.

1010011010

She takes me up on my offer and ascending the stairs I can hear Flipper barking. "I don't know who has the dog. Probably Shayla, she doesn't shit on her pillows."

Then I realize that if Flipper was with Shayla, she probably wouldn't be barking. The door is wide open and Flipper's just sitting there, but Tara's not home. I run out into the hall and pound on Shayla's door, but there's no answer there either.

Back in my apartment a phone beings to ring and I realize it's coming from a burner in the middle of my floor.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hey bra." It's Vera on the other end, Shayla's ex-supplier. "Sometimes, the universe aligns perfectly. Here I am, locked away and still it brings you right to me."


	19. College Letters I

_**September 8, 2011**_

 _ **Dear Elliot,**_

 _ **I hope this gets to you before your birthday. Otherwise I'll have to wish you a belated birthday and that's just unacceptable. So, Happy Birthday. The thing is I have no idea how long international mail takes, so I have no idea if anything I write to you will be relevant when you get it.**_

 _ **Not gonna lie, I'm not sure what to write about. I googled some letter templates and ideas, but it wasn't helpful.**_

 _ **I'll be doing some traveling to the Scandinavian countries which is exciting. It's pretty weird here. Going to another country is like going to another state expect your cash doesn't work and you can't understand a word they're saying.**_

 _ **I cried my way through the first couple days of classes. Don't tell Ange that. I don't want her to worry because I'm actually fine, my mind just likes to tell me that I'm not.**_

 _ **The Viking/Anglo-Saxon program is ridiculously small so it's not surprising that I'm the only American, but it sucks how judgey the rest of them are about that. They assume I'm an asshole because I'm from the city. They're right of course, but it still sucks.**_

 _ **I've pretty much taken up residence in the library. I figure if my head's always in a book no one will know how lonely I am. Not even me. It's not as bad as it sounds, I swear.**_

 _ **Anyway, let me know what's up with you. Maybe we can Skype on holidays or something.**_

 _ **Love,**_

 _ **Tara**_


	20. College Letters II

_**9-24**_

 _ **Hey Tara,**_

 _ **I'm glad I'm not the only one who did research on being a penpal. Your letter got here on the 22**_ _ **nd**_ _ **, so you missed my birthday by less than a week, but we'll blame customs for that.**_

 _ **Ange and Tyler came over with a cake which was rough because I wasn't prepared to hang out with anyone. They didn't insist on taking me out which was nice, we stayed in and drank a bit. I drank a lot. That one's on me. You think I would realize year after year that birthdays are a thing people celebrate.**_

 _ **Don't worry about being alone over there. It's only a year. Just focus on your classes. It doesn't matter where you are or who you're with if you're doing something you love. That's what I kept telling myself to get through college.**_

 _ **Everything here is pretty much the same. The city's one of those constants. Which is strange because lately I feel like the whole world is turning and leaving me behind. Do you ever feel like that? Everything around you is spinning out of control and you're just standing there watching it happen. Maybe I'm just shrinking. That wouldn't be so bad, to not be noticed.**_

 _ **Are you gonna make friends in time for your birthday? Ange is gonna insist on Skyping you then. At least you'll be able to hang out online and not be forced into conversation all night like I was. See, there's a bright side to everything if you look for it.**_

 _ **Love,**_

 _ **Elliot**_


	21. Flashback to January 2013- Elliot

Tara had been back from England for months now, but after the first couple weeks I stopped hearing from her almost entirely. I wasn't too concerned though, it's not like either of us were very good at talking on the phone.

I opened my apartment door because of the incessant banging and Tyler pushed past me, invading my space.

"Have you seen my sister?" He demanded.

"Yeah. Ange was at work," I answered, not really sure where this was going.

"No my other sister, Tara," he shook his head at me. "She isn't answering her phone and she hasn't been home in a couple days."

I didn't respond. Instead, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my new hoodie trying to retreat into myself where I wouldn't be so uncomfortable.

"Well do you know where she is?" he continued.

"N-no no," I admitted.

He sighed and pulled out his phone, dialing her number as though to prove a point, but this time she answered.

"Hello?" she shouted.

"Tara, holy shit!" Tyler said. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"Why are you freaking out?" she giggled. "I'm fine, Ty. I can't talk now though, I'll call you later."

"Did you hear how loud it was there?" Tyler asked me after hanging up the phone. "She's at a bar or something. I gotta go find her." He rushed out of the building.

I let him leave. I wanted to help, but what good would I be trying to chase her down, bar by bar? She was obviously high as a kite, or at least extremely drunk. I decided to stay behind and do something I was good at. I could hack her emails, her phone. Maybe her texts would have some insight and I could be useful. Tyler seemed determined to bring her back, though and I had no intention of dragging her home unless she was in serious trouble.


	22. Episode 6- Tara

"Elliot!" I grin, glad that he's back and tackle him in a hug.

He presses his forehead to mine and kisses me gently. "I thought-" he begins, but then changes his sentence. "It's Shayla."

"What's Shayla?" I ask.

"Vera has her. I got here and Flipper was barking, the door was open. Where were you?" he demands.

I begin freaking as soon as he says that Shayla is gone and barely hear the rest of the sentence. "I took out the trash and had a smoke… You know what, I know a guy. We're gonna get her back." I start fumbling around, looking for my phone. I can feel the air thinning around me and try to focus on my task.

"What do you mean you know a guy? What the fuck Tara?"

I try to grab his hand while simultaneously calling Billy. It takes several tries, but finally I grasp his fingers. "How do you take out a gang? You get a bigger and badder gang."

1010011010

Elliot answers the door, shoulders hunched with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey toothpick; wait, you're the boyfriend?!" Billy chuckles when Elliot answers the door and steps inside the apartment without an invitation. "So you guys are in trouble with Fernando Vera, huh? That dude's batshit crazy."

"Wow, thanks for the insight, Billy," I sneer sarcastically.

"They said to meet them at the diner across town and Shayla will be there," Elliot explains.

"Well I can't help you there. I'm not crossing onto their turf alone," Billy shrugged.

"It's fine, I'll go," Elliot responds.

I step between him and the door. "That's suicidal. Shayla's my friend too, but they might just whack you without even saying hello."

"They won't, Vera wants something from me," Elliot says and kisses me before he leaves.

I pick up Flipper and sit on the couch. "I thought you and I could just go in there shooting or something," I sigh.

Billy chuckles and sits next to me. "Don't worry, he'll be back before you know it. I'll stick around to make sure you guys don't get hurt, but I'm not gonna get involved. I don't want to start a gang war because your boyfriend's a narc."

"He didn't care up the drugs! That's how he got his drugs!" I defend him. "Vera's a fucking rapist."

"You're not wrong, it's just that I can't afford to lose business trying to avenge a chick I've never met.

1010011010

Elliot enters the apartment and two guys follow, right on his ass. I stand up, ashing my cigarette, to confront the assholes. I don't recognize the black guy, but the other one is the same kid who tried talking to me on the subway last night.

"You're the guy from the train," I walk right up to him, as uncomfortably close as I can get and click my tongue off the roof of my mouth. My blood is boiling. I hate him. "I thought you were just pretending to be hood."

"And what do you think now," he smirks at me.

"I'm thinking I was right," I blow my smoke right into his face and press my cigarette against his forearm, burning him.

He screams in pain. "Bitch!" He raises his hand to strike me.

Billy pushes me away towards Elliot and I grab my boy to steady myself.

"You touch her, you're dead," he growls. "I understand you want to get your boy back, but you need to back the fuck off before this shit gets ugly."

The guy tried to interrupt because I had started it, but Billy wasn't letting him get a word in.

"She's part of my crew, so he is too. I got no beef with you guys, but if anything happens to him or her, you're not gonna be able to walk to the store to buy cigs without getting stuck."

The kid huffs, but backs up. "Alright, we cool."

Billy stands down, too and winks at me.

"Time to shine your kahunas and get to work," the same guy says to Elliot. "Our only rule: do what we say. You violate that dictate and we kill your friend."

"Get to work doing what?" I ask.

"Your boy is gonna get my brother out of prison," the kid smiled.

I bit my lip and it took everything I had not to deck him in the face.

"Yo, what's the deal?" he asks Elliot when nothing seemed to be happening.

At the same time Flipper began yapping; I've realized you can't really call it a bark.

"Want me to take her out, Elliot?" I ask.

"No one's going anywhere," Vera's brother growled.

"If she doesn't go out she'll piss everywhere and that includes on you," I hiss, staring at his new sneakers.

Elliot stands up and grabs the leash. "She's my dog, I'm taking her out," he declares.

 _What is going on in that head of his?_

Vera's brother looks like he's about to say something, but one look at Billy and he shuts his mouth, letting Elliot go.

"If you really wanna help them, why don't you just kill us?" the kid asks Billy while the black guy goes to the window to watch Elliot.

The guy hits the kid's shoulder to let him know he's going out to follow Elliot.

"I'm not interested in starting a war," Billy answered. "But keep pushing and I will."

The other guy brings Elliot back and Darlene is with him. She must have been helping him with the prison heist. Elliot returns to the computer and the five of us awkwardly stare at each other. I don't know about the others, but I'm sure my violent thoughts are showing in my eyes.

The building's doorbell rings and Vera's brother holds a finger to his lips to make sure we all stay quiet.

"Elliot you in there?" It's Ange.

She buzzes again. "Elliot!" she yells and buzzes yet again. "Let me in! Elliot you in there? Tara?"

The other guy comes away from the window. "Little, blonde biddy," he shrugs.

Billy gets up from his seat next to me to look out the window for himself, grinning at me.

"Go!" the kid yells at Elliot. "Shut her up and get her the hell out of here."

"Elliot!" Ange calls again. "Buzzer, now!"

"I'm going too!" Billy declares.

While the two of them are out, the Vera's guys start poking around Elliot's shit. Vera's brother is just turning everything over while his friend pulls out a book of CDs. The CDs that aren't actually music, but information on people Elliot has hacked and turned in.

"Tom Petty, Pink Floyd, Van Halen," he's flipping through when Elliot and Billy come back. "What's up man? You ain't got no Dre, no Pitbull, no nothing!"

Elliot takes it from him and shoves his laptop in his backpack without a word.

"What's up, Rain Man?" Vera's brother asks.

"I'm ready to bust Vera out," he says. "I can get into the network. We need to get to the jail now."

I sigh, the more time we spend with these assholes, the more chances there are of something going wrong and never seeing Shayla again.

Outside we realized the problem that there were six of us and their car only fit five. Elliot tried to get them to leave either me or Darlene behind, but they weren't having it. It worked out that Darlene rode bitch and Elliot sat on my lap since he was so scrawny.

"What's the plan, bitch-boy?" Vera's brother asks when park a block from the jail.

Elliot gets out and b-lines for jail's entrance.

"Elliot, what the fuck?" I call after him, but he just keeps walking.

1010011010

Time just keeps passing and he doesn't come back. Finally I get out because I need to stretch my legs.

"What do you think you're doing, sweetheart?" the black one asks, getting out of the car as well.

"Stretching," I sneer. "And I have a name."

"No shit, really?" he chuckles. "And what might that be? Cause I'm DJ and that's Isaac."

"Tara."

Within minutes we're all leaning against the car like some kind of screwy lineup, waiting for Elliot. Isaac is the only one who isn't; he's passing back and forth. I'm trying not to think about Shayla or anything for that matter. I concentrate on the warm sun now that spring finally seems to be showing up.

1010011010

Eventually Elliot does appear again.

"Get in," Isaac orders and opens the passenger door.

"Alright, let's go," DJ jumps at the opportunity to get out of here.

"Na, bro, just him," Isaac clarifies.

Billy steps forward putting a hand behind his back, to grab his gun. "He's not going anywhere, just him."

Isaac seethed, but backed down from Billy again. "Fuck. Let's go."

1010011010

The plan to hack the network using a squad car's Bluetooth required a distraction. Darlene was elected to go and talk to the cop who had just gotten into his vehicle.

"We need thirty to forty seconds of the car's Bluetooth connection to run the exploit," Elliot explains sitting with his laptop in the passenger seat.

"And then?" Isaac asks from the back with me and Billy.

"The plan executes at 9:49. All the cell doors should open."

I should be more nervous than I am, but despite having anxiety over walking out the door in the mornings, I'm not worried that something might go wrong.

"I've got the exploit," Elliot says. "Drive. Darlene's no longer part of the plan."

"Are you sure you wanna make that choice right now?" Isaac threatens.

"I only need to press one key to run the exploit. Or I could press another and disable the entire plan. I made my move, you make yours," Elliot countered.

1010011010

It's 9:48 and we are waiting outside of the jail for the insane fucker.

Isaac cocks his gun and stands holding it in front of him.

"What do you need your piece for, bro?" DJ asks.

I might have been imagining it, but I thought I heard a little paranoia, a little suspicion in his voice.

"Boy wonder says he's opening all the cells. Some fool tries to rush us, I wanna be ready," he claims. He looks at his phone and holds it for Elliot to see.

As if on cue, all the lights go out in and around the prison.

"Man, what the shit?" DJ freaks.

"Power surge caused by all the cells opening at the same time," Elliot explains calmly, holding my hand.

"What about security? Sirens?" asks Isaac.

"The network will show all doors locked and closes. Alarms are silent for two minutes," Elliot answers.

The lights come back on and a mass of orange jumpsuits have made their way to the fence. Easily, they slip out one by one. Vera is easy to spot.

"Yes! Yes!" he cries walking towards us. "You see right here, this shit tastes better than any pussy I ever had."

Taking a good look at him I had to hold back a laugh. What girl would ever let him go down on her?

"DJ, shoot the cocksucker," he continues.

Without hesitation, DJ shoots Isaac in the head. With a spray of blood, the kid falls onto the asphalt.

"And who the fuck are you?" Vera asks Billy, passing right over me.

"Billy Martin," he says proudly because apparently on the streets it means something. "You been messin with my guys. Had to make sure no one did anything stupid."

Vera nods and goes back to hounding Elliot. "My own brother," he motions to the bleeding carcass. "That's what the universe asked of me. But you helped me; that's the kind of bravery I've been talking about. For now, I want you to look at Isaac." He grips Elliot's chin and forcefully turns his head.

I clench my hands into fists, ready to jump the ass, but Billy sees and holds me back.

"The operation is over," Vera tells Elliot. "So go on, crash it, burn it to the ground. It doesn't matter. I'm gone."

"Shayla!" Elliot calls when DJ and Vera begin walking away. "Where is she?"

DJ tosses a set of keys towards us and Elliot catches them.

"Told you you'd get her back, bro," Vera says. "Just didn't realize, she was with you the whole time."

My stomach sinks further into my gut as he speaks. Elliot goes to open the trunk and I can feel my heart beating in my throat. My knees are week and I feel like vomiting. _Please, please_ , I pray, but I don't know to whom. I don't look in the trunk, I just watch Elliot turn his head away.

"You fucking cocksucker!" I scream after Vera. Billy continues to keep his arms around my waist. I try to break free of him, but I'm not strong enough. "I'm gonna kill you, you motherfucker!" Kicking and screaming, I'm finally able to free myself from Billy and I envelop Elliot.

He slowly puts his arms around my back and all I want to do is cry, but I don't let myself. I don't let myself do anything. _Be strong. Be strong for him._ And the sadness disappears, leaving me wanting desperately to break something.

"They just dug their own graves," Billy declares. "We gotta go. Wipe down the car, burn it, but we gotta fucking go."


	23. Episode 6- Elliot

"Elliot!" Tara practically knocks me over with her hug.

I kiss her. I was so worried that she was gone, too. "I thought-It's Shayla," I say.

"What's Shayla?" she counters and I realize I should have started from the beginning.

"Vera has her. I got here and Flipper was barking, the door was open. Where were you?" I have to ask because I was so worried when Flipper was here, but she wasn't.

"I took out the trash and had a smoke," she answers. "You know what, I know a guy. We're gonna get her back."

"What do you mean you know a guy? What the fuck Tara?"

She grabs my hand as she makes the call. "How do you take out a gang? You get a bigger and badder gang."

I knew of Billy and I knew she had joined a gang. I didn't know how prolific the gang actually was, though.

1010011010

Almost immediately there was a knock at the door which I answered.

billy is standing in the hall smoking a cigarette with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face. "Hey toothpick," he greets me. "Wait, you're the boyfriend?!" Billy chuckles and pushes into the apartment, grinning at Tara. "So you guys are in trouble with Fernando Vera, huh? That dude's batshit crazy."

"Wow, thanks for the insight, Billy," Tara responds with sarcasm.

"They said to meet them at the diner across town and Shayla will be there," I explain.

"Well I can't help you there. I'm not crossing onto their turf alone," Billy says apologetically.

"It's fine, I'll go," I had planned on going alone anyway.

Tara blocks my path. "That's suicidal. Shayla's my friend too, but they might just whack you without even saying hello."

"They won't, Vera wants something from me," I try to explain to her and kiss her quickly before I go.

1010011010

I feel the sensation: Fight or Flight. It's constant, I should just pick one. I, Elliot Alderson, am flight. I am fear. I am anxiety, terror, panic.

"It doesn't feel real," Shayla says sitting across from me in the cold diner.

"You should eat," I tell her.

"I'm not hungry. I don't even know what I ordered," she responds.

"I'm sorry," I don't know what to say. This is all my fault. "If I could go back and undo-"

"You can't!" she interrupts. "You promised me."

"I'm gonna get you out of this, okay?"

Isaac, Vera's brother, stands up from the table next to ours. "Time's up," he says and violently drags Shayla out of her seat and out of the restaurant.

DJ, the other one, stays with me. "Follow me. Let's go."

In the back office, the phone is off the hook, waiting for me. "Hello?" I pick it up.

"Hey, bro," It's Vera on the other end.

"Where are you taking her?" I demand. "I don't know what you think this is about, but you need to let her go."

"When I found out you did this, I didn't get angry," he ignores me. "I got impressed. Your power; I want it Elliot. I want it so bad it makes my dick hard and I want it today."

"I don't know what you think I can do," I tell him, trying to dismiss is vulgarity. "I can't just hack you out of prison. Not all prisons are networked and even if yours is, it would take weeks to find security holes."

"It has to be tonight. I got crosshairs on my heart. If I don't make it out, I'm dead and that ain't meant to be just yet. Do your thing, bro," he orders.

"You're asking the impossible!" I cry, beginning to panic.

"We cross paths tonight, Elliot, Imma hug you," he hangs up.

1010011010

"Where's Shayla?" I ask again when we pull up to my building.

"Yo, I'm not gonna tell you again, stop asking so many questions," Isaac growls.

I'm so nervous I drop the keys as I try to unlock the door. Finally I get it open and Tara stands up to meet us.

"You're the guy from the train," she saunters up to him and blows her smoke in his face. "I thought you were just pretending to be hood."

I watch in shock at how brazen Tara is. She must have been smoking because I had never seen her like this. It worried me that she could challenge someone so easily; what if she got hurt?

"And what do you think now?" he responds.

"I'm thinking I was right," she hisses and burns his arm with her cigarette.

 _Fucking hell. She'll be the one getting us killed._

"Bitch!" Isaac goes to hit her, but Billy pushes her away, into me.

"You touch her, you're dead," he threatens. "I understand you want to get your boy back, but you need to back the fuck off before this shit gets ugly. She's part of my crew, so he is too. I got no beef with you guys, but if anything happens to him or their friend, you're not gonna be able to walk to the store to buy cigs without getting stuck."

"Alright, we cool," Isaac sighs. "Time to shine your kahunas and get to work," he says to me. "Our only rule: do what we say. You violate that dictate and we kill your friend."

"Get to work doing what?" I hadn't filled her in on Vera's demands.

"Your boy is gonna get my brother out of prison," Isaac tells her.

 _Something's not right about Isaac so while I wait for Darlene's malware, I hack his phone. Access denied by remote server. But I was in. Fuck. Getting into the prison server should have worked._

"Yo, what's the deal?" Isaac demands.

"Want me to take her out, Elliot?" Tara asks about Flipper's barking before I can answer Isaac.

"No one's going anywhere," Isaac says.

"If she doesn't go out she'll piss everywhere and that includes on you," Tara goads him.

 _No, I need to meet Darlene._ "She's my dog, I'll take her."

1010011010

"Did you like my little toy?" Darlene asks.

"Did you write that exploit yourself?" I snarl.

"I had an hour!"

"What you just pulled the code from rapid nine or some shit?" I'm pissed. "Since when did you become a script kiddie?"

"I repeat; I had an hour," she defends herself.

"Malware detection must have caught it," I tell her. "You fucked me."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Hey, don't put this on me. This is a shit show and you have me no time to do it right. I can run circles around an ICS given the proper white papers and time." She stalks off.

"Where are you going?" I call.

"I have no problem telling these two douche tools they're gonna have to sit on their pricks till we find a better solution," she says exasperated.

I try to stop her. "You don't understand. These guys are-"

"-assholes?" she interrupts. "Yeah, Imma tell them what's up."

DJ appears in front of her and lifts his shirt so we can see the gun tucked into his waistband. "That's what's up, girl. Now let's go."

1010011010

I sit back at my apartment, feeling crowded. They all sit in awkward silence, but I'm busy trying to figure this shit out. The building's buzzer goes off and Isaac motions for us to be quiet.

"Elliot you in there?" Ange yells.

She hits the buzzer again. "Elliot!" she screams with another buzz. "Let me in! Elliot you in there? Tara?"

"Little, blonde biddy," DJ declares from looking out the window.

Billy gets up to look out the window, too.

"Go," Isaac orders. "Shut her up and get her the hell out of here."

"Elliot! Buzzer, now!" she continues.

"I'm going, too," Billy volunteers and walks outside with me. "You must be the beautiful, Angela," he greets her.

"Who are you?" she asks, stepping back.

"Billy. Nice to meet you."

Ange blinks a few times and looks at me. "Tara's…friend…?"

"Listen, Ange, now's not the best time," I try telling her.

"I tried looking for you after Gideon's the other night," she goes on as though she hadn't heard me. "Where were you?"

"I had to think about things, you know." It isn't a total lie.

"We always knew what Evil Corp did. We didn't' have the proof, but we knew. We were right about it all along. That news report wasn't a confirmation, it was reminder of how angry I am. Do you remember Nayar, the lawyer on the case? I went to her, Elliot?" She's rambling. "I have an idea that will change the world. I know it sounds really stupid, but I know how to do it. I think it could actually work. I can't tell you what it is-"

 _Evil Corp, Angela, Shayla, Tara, Vera, his brother, Darlene; this is too much. I should just tell her what she wants to hear._ "Angela, trust yourself. Do what's right."

"That's all I needed," she hugs me.

"What was that bullshit?" Billy asks me after she's gone and we head back upstairs.

"I can't even think about it right now," I tell him.

Inside, DJ is look at my CDs. "What's up man? You ain't got no Dre, no Pitubull, no nothing!"

I take the binder out of his hands and begin packing my backpack.

"What's up, Rain Man?" asks Isaac.

"I'm ready to bust Vera out," I tell him. "I can get into the network. We need to get to the jail now."

There were six of us and we had to fit into a five person car. I tried to have Darlene or Tara stay behind, but they were involved and Isaac wasn't letting them go. I ended up sitting on Tara's lap; I'm not sure why, but I didn't mind her arms around me and feeling her head rest on my back.

"What's the plan, bitch-boy?" Isaac asks when we park.

I open the door and head towards the jail, phone ready. _Like a hard drive blasted by excessive voltage, my mind is frayed, close to fried. I can feel the static running through my brain; serotonin receptors working overtime._

I get to visit with Vera like he was actually my friend.

"I need more time," I tell him sitting at the metal table.

"Tonight. Tonight. Tonight," is his answer.

"I'm working on our project as we speak so it's in your best interest to keep talking to me. At the security desk, my phone is running an undetectable security sniffer that will locate any kind of wireless in sight. By the time I leave this building, I'll own its network," I tell him.

"Brave, but stupid," he laughs. "You show your face and then I skip out tonight. Who do you think they're gonna think-"

"I'm opening every cell," I cut him off. "That way they can't trace it back to you or me."

"Yeah, bro, that's what I'm talking about," he grins. "I told you, didn't I? The universe got big plans for us, bro."

I'm seething. The only reason I'm involved is because of Shayla, not the universe. "You get out, you realize you're gonna have to split. You won't be able to stay in the tri-state area. Wherever you go, you're gonna need funding to keep surviving, which means your whole operation still needs to be making you money."

He raises his eyebrows. "Oh I love this, go on."

"I hacked Isaac's phone," I tell him. "He had everything: your crew, your shipments, entire operation. I took it all. I own your whole world. I need your word when this goes down, me and my friends go free. You leave us alone, forever. If anyone tries to hurt us, I even see one of your guys following me, I leave everything."

His face had fallen. "You're saying this, knowing-"

"-you can kill me anytime, yes. That's why I coded the leak to autosend every 24 hours unless I continuously disable it. No one else has access. If anything happens to me or Shayla, your money gets deleted."

The guard comes to our table. "Time's up, Vera, let's go."

"Remember, Imma hug you," he says, walking away.

Outside, my phone picks up one of the squad cars parked in front of me. _Shit, I can pull this off._

"Get in," Isaac orders me when I get back to the car.

"Alright, let's go," DJ gets behind the order.

"Na, bro, just him," Isaac says.

Billy reaches behind himself, going for a weapon. "He's not going anywhere, just him."

Isaac snarls, but doesn't accept the challenge. "Fuck. Let's go."

1010011010

"We need thirty to forty seconds of the car's Bluetooth connection to run the exploit," Elliot tell them.

"And then?" Isaac asks from the backseat.

"The plan executes at 9:49. All the cell doors should open," I answer. Only a few more seconds and I'm in. "I've got the exploit. Drive," I command. "Darlene's no longer part of the plan."

"Are you sure you wanna make that choice right now?" Isaac hisses.

"I only need to press one key to run the exploit. Or I could press another and disable the entire plan. I made my move, you make yours." I'm no longer scared of him.

1010011010

The five of us watch the prison, patiently standing in the dark.

Isaac brings out his gun to look more bad ass.

"What do you need your piece for, bro?" DJ asks.

"Boy wonder says he's opening all the cells. Some fool tries to rush us, I wanna be ready." He pulls out his phone and shows it to me. 9:49.

The prison goes dark.

"Man, what the shit?" DJ yells.

"Power surge caused by all the cells opening at the same time." I interlock my fingers with Tara's, knowing she'll take care of me.

"What about security? Sirens?" Isaac demands.

"The network will show all doors locked and closes. Alarms are silent for two minutes," I tell him.

The lights come back on and a group of men in orange are slipping through the fence.

"Yes! Yes!" Vera cheers, coming right for us. "You see right here, this shit tastes better than any pussy I ever had. DJ, shoot the cocksucker," he orders.

There's a bang and a spray of blood as Isaac falls to the ground.

"And who the fuck are you?" Vera demands of Billy, ignoring Tara completely.

"Billy Martin," he answers. "You been messin with my guys. Had to make sure no one did anything stupid."

Vera accepts his answer and turns back to me. "My own brother, that's what the universe asked of me. But you helped me; that's the kind of bravery I've been talking about. For now, I want you to look at Isaac." He grabs my face, inserting himself between me and Tara and turns my head.

The blood is pooling around Isaac's head and it makes my stomach churn.

"The operation is over," he hisses. "So go on, crash it, burn it to the ground. It doesn't matter. I'm gone."

He walks away, but hasn't delivered our friend. "Shayla! Where is she?" I call.

DJ throws keys which I catch.

"Told you you'd get her back, bro," Vera grins. "Just didn't realize, she was with you the whole time."

I open the trunk and Shayla is inside. Her eyes wide open, but not looking at anything. Blood from her neck stains her shirt. I turn away. I feel myself beginning to cry, but not one thought passes through my head. Eventually it hits me. I killed her.

Tara hugs me and she feels so good. _I can't make this about me. Tara's lost a friend too. I need to be strong, for her. Tara's still here._

"They just dug their own graves," Billy declares. "We gotta go. Wipe down the car, burn it, but we gotta fucking go."

I can't move, though, and Tara has to get me out of there.


	24. College Letters III

_**October 13, 2011**_

 _ **Dear Elliot,**_

 _ **I wish I could give you some comforting advice, but when I feel that way I just don't get out of bed. I close my eyes and pretend I'm someone else, somewhere else. It's probably not the healthiest way to deal with things, but I've made it to grad school and almost to 24 this way so why fix what isn't broken.**_

 _ **I have a pseudo-friend. He lives in Sweden and I met him while I was visiting Stockholm one weekend. If I'm still talking to him in a month, I'm not going to tell him it's my birthday. It's not like he can find out through Facebook. We're not Facebook friends, so I think I'll be safe to just eat an inordinate amount of junk food and have a movie marathon. Unless of course I have a paper due. Then I'll eat an inordinate amount of snack food over a mountain of books in the library.**_

 _ **Have you seen that honey badger youtube video? Tyler must have sent it to you. He thinks it's the funniest thing ever. He just randomly texts me quotes from it. It's funny, but not THAT funny. We're twins! How did he end up with such a shit sense of humor?**_

 _ **I went up to Scotland this past weekend. It's strange that it took less than seven hours using public transportation to get there. Of course I went further North, but three countries in six and a half hours. I'm not sure if I'll ever get over how small Europe is. It's beautiful there. Cold and windy, but beautiful once you get out of the cities. I really love how quiet it is. Of course after one day of peace I had to take the seven hour trip back to Nottingham for Monday.**_

 _ **I'm really starting to miss you guys. Try not to dwell on the spinning Earth, focus on your own two feet.**_

 _ **Love,**_

 _ **Tara**_


	25. College Letters IV

_**10-31**_

 _ **Dear Tara,**_

 _ **Happy Halloween. I can't believe you didn't mention plans in your last letter? Did you dress up? Did you try to go trick or treating? These are the kinds of things I need to know. Let me live vicariously through you because I've spent the entire month working or sitting alone smoking, not that I actually wanted to go out and do things. I did go out and buy all the cheap last minute Halloween candy for myself even though you're not here to eat it with me.**_

 _ **You know that cybertech security company Ange works for? She's getting me a job there so I'll be starting that soon. But unfortunately that is the most exciting news I have for you. But honestly? security for asshole corporations. I think I'd rather put a bullet in my brain. Corporations are what's ruining society, but this society is capitalist so I have to have a job. I thought at this point in my life I would have done something useful. Don't ever stop going to school. Go for your doctorate. Keep learning.**_

 _ **Thanksgiving plans are already being made. Your dad's house in Jersey, of course. I always appreciate your family inviting me, but it's exhausting. I never know what to say in a group setting like that, especially with your dad since I only see him once a year.**_

 _ **I wish I could afford to visit you instead, at least for Christmas.**_

 _ **Love, Elliot**_


	26. Episode 6 and a half- Tara

I open my eyes and Elliot is gone, so is Flipper. It's been a week since Shayla's death and every time I remember that she isn't across the hall loneliness washes over me and I can't breathe right. I look at my phone and it tells me it's Thursday. Fuck. It can't be. After everything that had been happening I had completely forgotten about my interview. I take deeper and deeper breaths, but it's not helping. My stomach churns and I fling myself out of the bed and into the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet. _Why did I agree to this?_ I was perfectly content with my job at the library. _No, no, I needed this interview._ I needed to get dressed and go to this interview. _But what's wrong with working afternoons in an obsolete library?_

"Billy?" I say into my phone.

"What's up?" a raspy voice replies.

"I need something. Xanax, Morphine? Can you get me something now?" I'm pacing, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

By the time he shows up at Elliot's door, I have thrown up several more times.

"Xanax," he shakes the pill bottle. "What are you freaking out about?"

"Job interview later," I answer.

"Congrats! Your boy must be proud," he says.

I scratch my head nervously. "I haven't told him."

Billy rolls his eyes at me. "Okay here's the deal. You can have these, but only if you promise me you're going to tell him before the interview." He holds up the bottle again to show me just what I'd be missing.

I bite my lip. "Fine. Deal." I hold out my hand, getting antsier by the second.

1010011010

"Why are you all dressed up?" Elliot asks when he gets back with the dog, sliding his hood off.

I admit it did feel strange to be wearing pants that weren't jeans or sweats. "I have an interview at the Met," I tell him to make good on my deal with Billy.

"And what are you on?" He asks next.

I didn't think I was so obviously high. "Xanax," I giggle.

He lets Flipper loose and comes over to me, actually looking at me as he speaks. "That's great, but you probably shouldn't be going high."

"I was so nervous I barely made it out of bed this morning," I try explaining. "And you go to work high all the time!"

"I already have the job," he replies.

"So you have nothing to be nervous about!" I retort.

He pulls his hood back up and his hand hovers inches from my lower back. "Come on. Let's go."

"Go?" I wrinkle my brow in confusion, but grab my purse anyway.

"I'm going with you," he explains and grabs the back of my neck, pushing me out of the apartment along with him.

"You should go to work," I continue to protest. "You're gonna get fired."

"Then I'll find a new job," he shrugs. "There will always be a need for computer engineers."

We were lucky to find seats on the subway with everyone going to work. I sit half on his lap and he has his arms around my waist, hands clasped in front of my stomach as though I'm a little child that might run away. I lean my head back on his chest, for once enjoying the crowd because it forced us so close together. When we exit the station, he casually lights a cigarette and I ask if I can have one.

"You shouldn't go in there reeking of smoke," he refuses my request continuing to walk with his shoulders hunched, braced against the world.

"I shouldn't go in there high either, but that ship has sailed," I retort.

"Good luck," he tells me at the foot of the museum's stairs. "I'll be right here when it's over."

I take a deep breath and head inside. I can do this. I have a master's degree in Viking and Medieval studies. That's got to count for something, right?

1010011010

I immediately spy his black hoodie as I exit the museum. I shake hands with my new boss and thank her and then skip down to the man who's loitering and smoking, just as I left him. "Hey," I grin and stick my hands into his jeans pockets. "Now I need a cigarette," I tell him, pulling the pack out of his pocket and sticking one in my mouth. He doesn't react as I put the pack back into his pocket and touch the tip of my cigarette to his, not breaking eye contact. The cigarette lights and I turn to the side so my smoke doesn't go in his face.

He kisses me which is what I wanted, but now I want more and we're fifty blocks from home.

"So how'd it go?" he breathes, pulling away.

"I start on Monday," I answer, still staring at his lips. God, I want him.

"Congratulations," he says and grabs my hand. "You're gonna show up high, aren't you?"

I laugh so hard I end up snorting. "I'm gonna show up high the whole first week."

1010011010

Elliot kisses down my spine and around to my stomach. "I love you," he admits into my skin.

"Are you just saying that?" I laugh even though I know his few words are always chosen carefully.

"I've thought about it and I've decided I'm in love with you," he tells me.

I kiss him back, but I can't return the words. "I can't love you, Elliot," I sigh.

"Why? Because Tyler's dead? If you're too scared of death to care about anyone what's the point of being alive in the first place?" He retorts.

You don't think I've considered that?" I hold up my wrists. "But if I let myself get attached to you the way I want to and end up losing you, I'd be devastated."

"You could die tomorrow," he points out. "You could be crossing the street going to work and be hit by a bus. So I shouldn't care about you because who knows when your time is? It's bullshit. It's a bullshit excuse. You either love me back or you don't because you either connect with me or you don't."

He turns around with his back to me and I get up out of bed.

I dress and leave the apartment unsure of what I'm supposed to do. I get coffee because it's too early to go to a bar. Standing in line at the Dunkin Donuts I keep thinking about how upset Elliot was that I didn't say I love you. I was taken aback by the whole event. I had never considered anyone would be in love with me. Billy never did and surely not Elliot who spent more time running around trying to destroy E Corp than he did with me. But fuck, I had fallen in love with him too. I order my coffee and then his, I realize I don't know if he wants coffee or how he takes it. I never payed attention when he fixed it in the apartment, but I figure it's rude to come back without anything for him. It'd be even worse this time because of our fight. I walk in the door to the apartment and he's moved to the computer. He looks at me when I walk in, but doesn't issue a greeting. I hand him the coffee over his shoulder which he takes, his fingers lingering on mine. I kiss his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Elliot," I say. "I do love you. I just don't know how to."


	27. Episode 6 and a half- Elliot

I get lost walking Flipper around Midtown. I've been trying so hard not to think about missing Shayla that I forget to think at all. I'm a mess, I'm barely functioning and Tara's not much better. When I get I find Tara dressed as though she was going to work in an office. It's disorienting. I don't like it. "Why are you all dressed up?" I ask.

"I have an interview at the Met," she answers.

I'm happy for her, but Tara would never be this calm. She doesn't even like going to new coffee shops. "What are you on?" I ask again.

"Xanax," she smiles playfully.

"That's great," I say about the interview and then add: "but you probably shouldn't be going high."

"I was so nervous I barely made it out of bed this morning. And you go to work high all the time!" she points out.

I can't deny it. Helping Evil Corp really eats away at me. "I already have the job," I try to justify it.

"So you have nothing to be nervous about!" It had backfired.

"Come on," I sigh. "Let's go." I put my hand just above her lower back to guide her out of the apartment.

"Go?" she asks.

"I'm going with you," I tell her and move my hand on the back of her neck, pushing her along with me.

"You should go to work. You're gonna get fired." She's probably right.

"Then I'll find a new job," I say; I'm not attached to Allsafe and it's failing anyway. "There will always be a need for computer engineers."

It's that time of the morning when the subway is overcrowded. We find seats, but Tara has to practically sit on top of me to fit. I put my arms around her to make sure we don't get separated by the zombies on their commute. Exiting the station, I light a cigarette and Tara asks if I'll give her one but I refuse. "You shouldn't go in there reeking of smoke."

"I shouldn't go in there high either, but that ship has sailed," I replies.

We reach the foot of the museum and I have to let her go. I wish her good luck and promise that I'll wait right here for her.

1010011010

I didn't notice her come out of the museum, but all of a sudden she's two inches from my face, smiling.

"Now I need a cigarette," she says and her hands go into my pockets.

It's startling, but I don't stop her as she pulls out my pack, puts a cigarette between her lips, and returns the pack to my pocket. She leans in closer and touches the tips of our cigarettes together to light hers. She stares me in the eye the whole time, tempting me. I hold my cigarette out of the way and kiss her, hard on the lips. I want so much more, but I pull away. "So how'd it go?" I ask.

"I start on Monday," she tells me, still only inches away from my face.

"Congratulations," I smile and then take her hand, intending to go back home with her. "You're gonna show up high, aren't you?"

She laughs so hard she snorts. It's adorable. "I'm gonna show up high the whole first week."

At least she's aware of her habits.

1010011010

I can't take my lips off her. I kiss down her back and on her hip and around to her stomach, tasting every inch of skin. "I love you," I hear myself say.

She laughs and my heart drops to my stomach. "Are you just saying that?"

"I've thought about it," I lie. "And I've decided I'm in love with you."

She kisses my lips, but tells me that she can't love me.

"Why?" I sneer, defensive. Does she not know how hard it is for me to deal with feelings? Why couldn't she just say it back? "Because Tyler's dead? If you're too scared of death to care about anyone what's the point of being alive in the first place?"

"You don't think I've considered that!" She yells and shows me her wrists.

Fuck. I had gone too far.

"But if I let myself get attached to you the way I want to and end up losing you; I'd be devastated," she continues.

"You could die tomorrow," I point out. "You could be crossing the street going to work and be hit by a bus. SO I shouldn't care about you because who knows when your time is? It's bullshit. It's a bullshit excuse. You either love me back or you don't because you either connect with me or you don't." I roll over so my back is to her and I'm no longer looking at her. I feel her get up and I hear the door close but I remain with my arms crossed, staring at the wall. Eventually I do get up and put some clothes on and move several feet to sit in front of my computer.

I hear the door open and close and I look over my shoulder to see Tara with coffee. She hands me the Styrofoam cup over my shoulder and I take it. Her lips gently press against my cheek.

"I'm sorry, Elliot," she says quietly. "I do love you. I just don't know how to."


	28. Episode 7- Elliot

_Aren't lives just blips in the Cosmic Calendar or something? So that's Shayla. Here one blip, gone the next. It makes me hate myself that I've already gotten used to the idea of her not being here. In a year, I might only think of her once in a while and then she'll become an anecdote, a thing to say "I know a girl that died" with the added bonus of "she died because of me." Maybe I should hate myself._

"Here are the last two forms," Krista hands me a clipboard. "Sign on the bottom and then I'll deliver it to the court and in two weeks' time, you'll receive an official release from the mandate. That second form means you've been sitting in this room for a year.

 _Over 52 hours of Krista's voice bouncing around this room. She thinks she's a wasted echo. Maybe she is. I wonder how much time I've spent not listening to her in here._

"I'm worried about you, Elliot. I want you to keep coming here. "We've got a lot more work to do," she says.

 _She wants more from me, but she doesn't believe in me._

"I tried because I believe some part inside you wants to do this right," she continues.

I sign the papers and give them back to her. Tara will probably be disappointed in me for quitting therapy. I am, after all, the one who recommended Dr. Krista Gordon to her. Now I'm abandoning it all because the state says I can.

1010011010

"You wanted to see me?" I sit down in Gideon's office. I have made it to work every day for the past month.

"Look," he begins. "I appreciate you coming in to do this job, I really do, but I don't know how you plowed through these past few weeks, so I wanna offer you some time off."

 _What would I do with time off? Think_. "I don't need time off. I'm good," I lie.

He stops me as I try to leave. "One more thing. I'm sorry for your loss, but you can't let death close you off entirely."

"Good advice," I sneer at him. "Thanks."

1010011010

That's how my life works now. Blips. Small pieces, little scenes. I wake up and I'm at work. Then somehow I'm home. Now that I am home, I decide it's time to delete the hack of Shayla's life. I burn the information to a disk, label it as a Cure CD and then delete it from my desktop. It's time to wipe again. I pull out the chips from the hardrive and unplug. Pissed and tired, I throw them into the microwave and completely destroy them.

Tara returns home just then. Her commute from eighty-whatever street, is much longer than mine. "Elliot?" she says.

I look up at her and realize she's look at the burning metal in the microwave. "It's alright," I lie.

She takes a seat next to me, not saying anything and then she kisses me. Her lips are so soft. I lean in to kiss her back, but the sound of puking pulls us apart.

"Shit," I notice Flipper has vomited.

Tara orders me to remain on the couch and begins cleaning up the vomit and simultaneously trying to keep the dog out of the way. "Elliot…"

"What is it?" I ask.

"There's blood in the vomit," she says.

I had wanted to stay in, but blood is always a bad sign. "Shit," I put on my hoodie, but my phone rings. It's probably Krista or Gideon, but I can't think about that right now. "Shit!"

"I can take her," Tara offers when she notices my stress.

I let her go even though I wanted her to stay in with me. She gets Flipper, I get Qwerty. Shayla gave him to me. Her nephew, maybe her niece gave the fish to her, but she knew she'd kill it.

1010011010

I go out, unable to face the empty apartment. When I return, Ange is chewing off Tara's ear. I sit down on the sofa and grab her hand, she looks bored enough to commit murder. I put my arm around her and pull her even closer, trying to get her onto my lap, but I can't seem to get her close enough. Maybe Angela will notice and take her leave. I can't hear Ange's words. I know she's talking because her mouth is moving, but none of the sound waves make it to my ears.

Tara's phone rings, "What?" I don't hear the voice on the other end, but she bolts out of the room and doesn't come back.

"Where did she go?" Ange asks.

I shrug. "Maybe you should go, too."

She nods, stands, and leaves without a word.

I wait, but Tara doesn't come back from her phone call. Eventually, I force myself to go to bed, but I can't sleep. My mind races with everything that's happened recently, forever. I must be in hell.

1010011010

In the morning, I show up at Krista's office.

"Elliot! I wasn't expecting you," she says when she sees me sitting in the hall.

"I'm here for my appointment," I tell her.

She smiles at me. "You can slip in before my first patient."

"You told me I should tell you the truth," I begin. I'm not as nervous as I thought I would be, I'm past the breaking point. "Everything I say will still be protected and confidential?" I check and she nods. "I've been lying to you. I don't take my pills, but you don't either. Your refill doesn't match the prescription divided by the dosage. This morning you bought a tall, hazelnut latte, paid for it on your Evil Corp card. The taxi you justified to your sister cause Evil Corp gives you double rewards, but those points are only good on travel expenses. On paper, your Thursday, two o'clock, Marylin O'Brien is your doppelganger. You think you're encouraging her to leave her husband because you're tired of being dumped. You told your best friend Jennifer that you wish your mom would die. I watch you on your webcam. You cry sometimes, just like me, because you're lonely," I'm crying now, but the words keep coming. "I don't just hack you, Krista, I hack everyone. My friends, coworkers, even Tara, but now that she lives with me, I don't really need to. She knows I hack her too which I think would freak normal people out, but when I told her we had sex for the first time. And I've helped a lot of people. I want- a way out of loneliness, just like you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"


	29. Episode 7- Tara

He is so beautiful. I never see him calm and he rarely ever sleeps, even less so since Shayla's death. Yet here he is, curled on his side, eyes closed, perfectly tranquil. I scoot forward an inch so that I can kiss his nose. He doesn't stir, he's deep even breaths continue. I don't want to get up for work. I want to take his arm and put it over me and snuggle into his chest.

"I love you," I say into the air. "I love you. I love you. I love you." I couldn't have felt more cliché. I love him, but I can't get close enough. It irks me, but I know it's my own fault. I hold myself back. It's been this way for years. I wrote him letters in college, but never told him anything. Now, after Tyrell, after Billy, I'm too scared.

1010011010

I come home from work and there is a little fire in the microwave again. Microchips. "Elliot?"

"Hmm?" He looks up at me from his seat on the sofa. He follows my gaze to the top of the fridge. "It's alright."

I sit down next to him and stroke his forehead. He's lying and I want to lie back because I'm not sure if it will be. I don't know what I'm doing. I kiss his lips, but before he kisses me Flipper vomits.

"Shit," he sighs.

"Sit, sit," I order. "I've got this." I begin wiping up the puke with all the paper towels I can find, but I'm still closer to the mess than I would like. "Elliot…"

"What is it?"

"There's blood in the vomit," I tell him.

"Shit," he grabs his hoodie and then his phone rings. "Shit!"

He seems frazzled so I reach out to stop him. "I can take her."

1010011010

The lovely vet lady took some x-rays of Flipper's abdomen and then displayed them for me. "Is she micro-chipped?" she asks.

I shrug. I hope not, then she'll realize Flipper is not registered to a one Tara Moss, nor an Elliot Alderson.

"Does she normally eat trash?" she tries again.

Another riddle. "She's a rescue. We've only had her for a couple months. But she's been fine for those," I half lie.

The vet points out the mass inside of Flipper on the x-rays. "Good news, it's small so it'll pass on its own. But it's big enough she is still gonna be puking all over the place. I would crate her for a few days; monitor her."

"My boyfriend and I both work," I explain, hoping for an alternative to the monitoring part of her suggestion.

"Do you guys have a friend who could watch her?"

Shayla. I almost went an entire day without missing her. "We'll find someone," I lie.

1010011010

Walking Flipper home, I'm practically running. I need to get back to Elliot. Working a real job for the past three weeks, and he's stopped skiving off; I barely ever see him. I miss seeing him _all_ the time. My phone rings and I know it can't be him because he doesn't talk on the phone. Another shared trait.

"Hello?"

"It's Angela. Can we talk?" says the other voice.

"Now's not the best time."

"I'm coming over. Now."

"I'm not home!" I try to tell her, but she has already hung up.

And despite the few things I already said on the phone, I find Ange waiting outside of the door. It is a bit of a haul from the vet's office to the apartment. "Well I told you I wasn't home," I grumble.

"I thought Elliot might be," she admits.

"What is it?" I groan and unlock the door.

She launches right into the case she's bringing against Colby and her plan and what she has on him. Elliot returns and sits down on the sofa next to me without a word. I hold his hand and Ange just keeps on talking. He pulls me closer, nearly onto his lap, and Ange just keeps on talking.

We are interrupted by another phone call. "What?" I demand. Elliot is finally here with me and my sister won't leave so I can't fuck him and now someone else wants to talk to me.

"Tara?"

It's been years since I had heard that voice. I was under the impression he had deleted my number. I had certainly deleted his. I jump off the sofa and rush out of the apartment for some privacy.


	30. Episode 8- Tara

"Tyrell? You still have my number?" I manage to squeak.

"I'm an E Corp exec, I can get any information I want," he explains. "I need your help."

I sigh. "Where are you?"

"At the office," I can tell he's pacing and freaking out.

"I'll be right there," I can't believe what I'm saying.

1010011010

He meets me outside the building's front entrance. He looks exactly the same as he did years ago, only the circles under his eyes have gotten darker. "What is it? What's wrong?" I ask.

"I just killed someone."

I swallow nervously. I had grown jaded when it came to death, but I never expected Tyrell to be involved in this kind of situation. I have a million questions, the most important: why the hell did I come here? It's not like he was a great love that I had lost. Love had never been part of our relationship, not on my part and nothing close to the way I feel when I'm with Elliot"Where's the body?" I ask. "Why can't your wife help? I thought she was just as psychotic as you."

"She's a sociopath," he shakes his head. "If she thinks we can get away with it, great. But if she doesn't she'll turn me in out of self-preservation," his voice rises in pitch the more he speaks.

"And I'm the next viable candidate because…."

My reluctance to help is frustrating him. "Because when you returned to America you became involved in a very violent, very dangerous gang. The leader of which you are still in contact with. Just last month you and your roommate, Elliot, got involved with another gang and your friend ended up dead. I am not familiar with death! You are! Please, älskling."

"Where's the body?" I repeat because he's right about me, I'm nowhere near normal.

"I left her on the roof," he says.

"The roof?! Why the fuck didn't you just toss her over? Make it look like a suicide."

"Because I don't think like that!" He yells at me. "I panicked. I can't go back up there."

Now I'm freaking out. "Okay, okay. How do I get up there? I can't be seen on security cameras."

"Are you going to get rid of the body?" he asks.

"No, I'm just going to make sure she's not covered in your DNA."

1010011010

Elliot isn't home, but I need to talk to him. I plan to stay with my dad and Ange for a couple days; lie low. I pack a minimal amount of clothes to take with me by shoving them into a backpack. Before I head out, I make sure to call out of work. Flipper barks at me, ordering me to pet her before leaving. I oblige and then run out the door before she can reel me back in. I take the subway to Elliot's work, packed in with the rest of the commuting crowd. I'm cleared to enter Allsafe, but Elliot isn't there yet. I wait at his desk, watching the door for his black hoodie.

Finally he shows up, just as I'm starting to panic. "What are you doing here?" he demands.

"I might be in trouble," I admit. "I was going to spend a couple days in Jersey, but I wanted to make sure you'll be alright."

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" he asks.

"I just wanted to make sure," I tell him. "Things have been rough and you've seemed more off than normal."

"That's probably the lack of morphine," he jokes. "Really, I'm fine. Is this about last night?"

"Okay," I stand up and give him his seat back. I kiss him goodbye. "I'll see you soon, then. Iloveyou," I mumble, my heart is pounding from my need to panic about every little thing I say.

"Love you, too," he responds before I race out of there.

1010011010

The train ride seems to take longer than normal. Maybe NJ Transit is just going to shit like the rest of the world. On the bright side, I don't have to change trains when we stop in Newark. An hour later, I'm standing outside of my dad's house, the quietness of suburbia like a blanket, smothering me. I take a deep breath and knock.

"Tara!" he answers the door. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you call?" he engulfs me in a hug.

"Thought I'd surprise you," I lie.

He invites me in, grinning, but once I'm inside the smile fades. "You didn't break up with your boyfriend, too, did you?"

"No, Elliot and I are good," I answer. "I'm just visiting."

"Good, good," he takes my bag for me. "Your sister's in the city right now, but she'll be glad to see you when she gets back."

"I look forward to it," I lie. She hasn't tried to contact me since I ran out on her and Elliot the other night and that was perfectly alright with me.


	31. Episode 8- Elliot

Mr. Robot is leaning against a tree, waiting for me. "Did you get everybody back?" I ask.

He nods affirmation and we head over to the arcade.

Trenton, Mobley, and Romero are already there, but Darlene is missing. Even without her, I explain to them how all the thermostats are on one network, so we're still good to go. As we're wrapping up our meeting, I get a text. It's from Lloyd. _Allsafe's been hacked._ I get up to leave and I run into Darlene.

"I need a word," she pulls me aside.

"I need to get to work," I tell her.

She shoves a gun into my hands.

"What the hell is that?" I freak. What the hell would I do with a gun other than shoot myself, probably accidently?

"They're following me and they're probably following you too. They were on the subway this morning. These guys are dangerous, Elliot. The white rose meet might not go down the way we want it to. You need to be careful." She takes my phone out of my hands.

"What are you doing?" I demand.

"I'm calling myself from your phone. That way we have each other's numbers," she explains.

I let her do it, I just want my phone back so I can get to work.

Mr. Robot follows me out. "Loose Darlene's number," he orders. "It's a rule for a reason."

"Don't worry," I assure him. "I'm not gonna use it."

1010011010

I get to work and Tara is sitting at my desk. She looks exhausted and I wonder where the hell she's been. "What are you doing here?" I ask her.

"I might be in trouble," she says. "I was going to spend a couple days in Jersey, but I wanted to make sure you'll be alright."

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" She should be more worried about herself.

"I just wanted to make sure," she replies. "Things have been rough and you've seemed more off than normal."

"That's probably the lack of morphine," I kid, but Tara's not amused by my joke. I want to ask her who called her and where she ran off to, but I don't. "Really, I'm fine."

"Okay," she says, getting up and then kisses me. "I'll see you soon, then. Iloveyou," she ends the conversation quickly, slurring her words together.

"Love you, too," I try to tell her before she runs away.

The hack isn't a big deal. They're not going after anything valuable. This is more of a distraction.

"Hey, bro."

I look up to see Ollie, but I don't say anything back to him.

"Always the chatterbox," he tries again.

"You're sweating," I observe.

"Oh, yeah? Maybe a little, running around. Um, look, I sorta need you to handle something for me," he's taking forever and saying nothing.

"Not now," I try to get rid of him. "I need to reverse engineer the malware."

"I'm gonna need you to stop and take these corrupted drives over to Blank's Disc Recovery over on 36th and 5th," he says.

"Why me?" I ask, annoyed now. "Get one of the IT guys."

Ollie still isn't leaving. "Everyone is swamped. Elliot, dude, this isn't like, a debate. I've always wanted things to be cool between us, but I outrank you. So here are the drives. Your appointment is at two. You cannot be late. In fact, how about you leave right now."

"It's only twelve," I announce, confused.

"Elliot, bro, just do me this solid, okay?" he finally leaves, but I'm stuck with the disks.

1010011010

I meet up with Ange after hacking Ollie's emails. I wonder if Tara knows about any of this. "Why didn't you tell me?" I walk up to Ange.

"And say what?" she sneers. "Hey, Elliot, there's a bunch of nude pictures of me that some asshole wants to leak online?"

"I could have helped!" I insist.

"You weren't around!" she yells back.

That's not fair and she knows it. "Tell me what happened. Does Tara know?"

"No. We were being pressured," she answers.

"By who?" I ask.

"Some guy. He gave Ollie a CD and infected his laptop. He stole his pictures, his emails… he said to install the disc at Allsafe or he would leak everything online," she explains. "It was a while ago. I thought he forgot about us."

I was right. The hack was a distraction. This is about me. This is the meeting. "You should have come to me," I tell her.

"I told you, you weren't there," she replies. "You're never there anymore. Something is going on with you, Elliot. You haven't been the same the past couple of months. You're don't talk to me anymore. Just tell me what to do here because the only solution I can think of is to give up!"

"You're right," I admit. "We don't talk anymore." And we don't because when I'm not trying to bring down Evil Corp, I'm with her sister.

"So strange," she murmurs. "I really miss us."

1010011010

Trust issues. The Dark Army has taken extraordinary steps to ensure this meeting goes exactly how they want it. Is that why the infamous White Rose is such a legend? Because he's more paranoid than the rest of us?

I walk into Blank's and get shown into a dark room filled with empty desks. There's one man there and he's eating a sandwich. "I think I'm here to see you," I say, but he only gets up and leaves.

I turn around to see a woman.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to hand me those drives?" she asks. "I manage my time very carefully Mr. Alderson. Each timer beep indicates one minute of my time has passed. I have allotted you no more than three minutes."

"Are you really gonna do that?" I ask as she begins opening the disks.

"I suggest you pick better topics of conversation. I have 17 more items on my agenda today," she replies.

"The Evil Corp hack. We should go through with it this time," I declare. "We had everything set to go. You pulled out last time."

"Wasting more time telling me things I already know," she responds.

"But we're ready!" I insist.

She sighs. "That is the third time you have expressed that. You have no advanced this conversation. Do you intend to?"

Now I'm getting nervous. "Since last month, Evil Corp has moved its tapes to-"

"-five back up facilities and you have a plan to take them all down," she finished my sentence.

"Yes."

"Finally, you have communicated something," she says.

"So are you ready to do this or not?" I demand.

"You are the one who is not ready," she tells me. "It was you who failed all along. What you lacked was focus, you strayed from the hack to target Terry Colby. This opened a vulnerability, a suspicion, specifically by Gideon Goddard."

It's starting to make sense. "That's why you hacked Allsafe."

"To monitor his activities. That's when we discovered that he turned your infected server into a honeypot," she explains. "Only sixty more seconds and this meeting will be over."

"Wait!" I panic.

"The concept of waiting bewilders me. There are always deadlines. There are always ticking clocks. That is why you must manage your time," she responds, calmly, but annoyed.

"I'll find a way to remove the honeypot," I promise.

"Until 16 seconds ago, you were not aware there was a honeypot," she smirks. "This does not inspire confidence.

"Wait!" She's made me nervous. "We'll take care of it. You know you could have told us about the honey pot weeks ago."

"Every hacker has a fixation. You have people. I have time. So you should know when I set a timeline, there's a reason. You have 50 hours and 23 minutes. At that point, when all parties are ready, we will initiate the hack," she declares.

"We'll do it," I agree. "Maybe next time-"

"Understand something, Mr. Alderson," she interrupts. "After I leave, you will never see me again. There are very few people in my life who I have time to see more than once and you are not one of them.

1010011010

"What the shit?" Lloyd exclaims as an fsociety video begins playing on the conference room screen. Darlene came through, just like I asked.

Everyone flocks to watch. The distraction is momentary. Hopefully all I need. I run to Gideon's office to his phone. In 90 seconds this code will change. If I don't long in with it on my computer before then, everything will be lost to time.

In the distance I hear the video stop and Gideon appears at my side. I minimize the window as he peers over the cubicle walls.

"What are you doing?" he demands.

"I was working on the local backup," I lie.

"Why weren't you in there with us?" he asks.

"I was worried about-" I begin to lie again, but he interrupts.

"It just doesn't add up. All of these events keep happening around your appearance, your disappearance... Every member of this company stood in there watching the single worst thing that's happened to Allsafe. And where are you? At your cubicle doing what?" he accuses.

Ollie interrupts him this time. "Gideon."

"Not, now," Gideon brushes him off.

"Evil Corp's on the phone."

Gideon sighs. "I'll be back. We're not finished here."

I bring the window back up, I had logged in on time. I am finished here. I'm no good for him or this place. He was only protecting his people. But me? I'm doing this to protect everyone.

1010011010

Darlene is waiting for me on the boardwalk with a cigarette in her mouth. I thank her for pulling of the video and creating a distraction.

"I happen to be really smart and good at things," she grins.

I sit down next to her. "We should celebrate, then. In 43 hours exactly, our server will no longer be a honeypot and that route kit you wrote will take down Evil Corp. We did it."

"We're really doing this?" she giggles and then screams with glee. "Be happy!" she shakes me. "You did it! Elliot, you're gonna change the world."

"We did this," I correct her.

"I would love to take credit, but I can't. Really, this was you. You are seriously the best person I know. You know that? I love you so much," she smiles at me.

I knit my eyebrows together and draw back in disgust and confusion. I love Tara. Was something going on that I didn't even realize?

Darlene sees my panic and her eyes widen. "What is it, Elliot? Come on."

I don't answer her.

"You forgot again," she begins crying. "Elliot, don't you know who I am?"

"Of course I do. I didn't forget," I lie. "Darlene. You're Darlene."

"I'm you-"

"-sister," I finish her sentence.

How could I forget? I panic and run out of there. I'm crazy. How could I just forget her like that? A whole person, a relationship. What else did I forget? I should have stayed on my meds. I'm crazy. I should have listened to Krista. I avoid myself, why? I'm afraid. Okay, afraid of what? Do I even exist? I look at my reflection in my bathroom mirror. I am here. I punch it and shatter the glass. Now I'm gone.

We have to hack me. Nothing. No identity. I'm a ghost. I pull out my binder of people. Did I erase myself? In the front there's one with no writing. I put it in. It's filled with pictures of Mr. Robot, of my dad.


	32. Episode 9- Elliot

He's sitting across the table from me. It's really him. "It's really you."

"Never been to your apartment before. It's nice. A little messy, but that's not Earth shattering news. You never liked cleaning your room," he talks like nothing has happened, nothing has changed.

"Jesus fucking Christ, I can't believe it's really you," I say again.

"I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to recognize me," he admits.

I push over the table, flipping it in my effort to get at him. I grab him by his jacket and throw him against the wall. "Why didn't you say anything?" I growl. "Why didn't you tell me? This whole time!"

"You're not well,' he says. "I was trying to handle it gently."

"Gently?" I cry. "Is that what the last three months have been?"

He pushes away from the wall and I let him go. "No, it's been about us doing something important. That's what it still needs to be about."

"You died! You were dead!" I yell.

"I suggest you lower your voice," he responds, too calmly.

"Lower my voice? You want me to lower my voice?" I laugh desperately. "After appearing at my door twenty years after your supposed death, I think this is a perfect fucking volume!"

"You don't want them to hear us," he says. "Especially after my impromptu visit from Tyrell Wellick last night. Elliot, there are people out there who do not want us to work together."

My anger only deepens. "Is that why they've been following me? Because of you?"

"Think about it. You don't remember me, you don't remember your own goddamn sister. They put you in this haze to fog whatever brain matter you have left. You'll forget what they want you to forget," he explains. "They're trying to control you, Elliot. They were trying to control you all along."

"This is crazy, I'm crazy," I say more to myself than him. "What are you talking about? Who's trying to control me?"

"The people out there who don't want me alive," he tells me. "The people who are afraid of us. We have to be more careful. Elliot, I will explain everything, but right now, tonight we have to stick to the plan."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I cry. "You want me to put this on hold. Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

He tries to quiet me. "It's not safe to discuss this here."

"I don't give a shit! Tell me what the fuck is going on!" I demand.

"Alright, come on, let's go," he holds the door open for me.

"Where?" I ask.

"If you want answers, stop asking questions and follow me."

I look around for Tara to tell her I'm going out for a bit, but then I remember she's in New Jersey. I sigh, wishing I could share this news with her and follow him out of the apartment.

1010011010

"Remember this?" My dad asks as we stand on the train platform.

"Of course I do. I even remember my game. I'd calculate the statistical probability for safety for each train based on how often they would derail. On the way there, I would always pick the safest care cause I looked forward to our trips to the city so much. Then on the way back, I'd pick the most dangerous ones cause I hated going home," I admit.

"She's not there anymore, Elliot," he says gently.

"Look, I don't know where we're going, but we need to find Darlene. Then maybe I could-"

He shushes me and glances over his shoulder. A man in a suit is approaching us.

I try not to stare as he gets closer and I can feel myself beginning to sweat as he gets closer.

"I thought that was you," he says and my heart stops.

"Oh my god! I haven't seen you in forever," a girl behind us says.

I let myself breathe again. He wasn't look for us.

"We can't see Darlene right now, it's too risky," my dad explains. "I know you're confused, Elliot, but I'm gonna show you exactly where I've been this whole time."

1010011010

We break into my childhood home in New Jersey. I have no idea who owns it now, but it hasn't changed much from what I can remember.

"I know I brought you back to town, but stopping by our old house is not part of the plan," my dad says as I wander into my old bedroom. "Come on. These people are gonna be home soon; not the best time for us to be here."

"This is where it happened, isn't it?" I ask.

"What? Where what happened?" he replies, impatient.

"You remember anything about that window?" I prod.

"Come on, Elliot, like I said: we should go."

I grab him by his jacket and push him through the window. The glass shatters as I hold him over the ground. "You pushed me out this window like you pushed me off the boardwalk!"

"Elliot!" he pleads.

"Maybe you're the one who needs some pushing now," I threaten to let him go.

"Okay, calm down," he begs. "It was an accident."

"Bullshit!" I scream at him. "I was eight years old. You thought I deserved it. That's what you said, isn't it?"

"No, you thought you deserved it. You felt guilty about it your whole life, telling people my secret. This anger was never at me. It was at you," he tries to explain. "You don't have to be angry at yourself anymore. Just let it go."

"You're right," I admit. "I was angry. I was angry at myself. I hated myself for doing what I did to you. I'm ready to let go." My hands unclench and he falls from the window. Shit, I run outside to help him.

"Come on," he says when I pick him up. "We need to get out of here."

1010011010

His arm is around my shoulders and I have an arm around his waist as he limps through the cemetery. "Almost there," he says, "Almost there."

"I thought you said we we're going somewhere safe."

"Elliot! Elliot!" I hear. I look up and see three women running towards us. Tara is leading the way, followed by her sister and Darlene.

"Shit, what the hell are they doing here?" I mutter.

"It won't be long now," Dad says. "I tried to protect you son, but they caught up to us."

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

He turns to me. "I'll always be right here. You understand that. They're not gonna break us apart again."

"What's going on?" I demand. "Tell me right now."

"Listen to me because we don't have much time," he pleads. "They're gonna try and get rid of me again. And you need to not let them."

"Why would they get rid of you?" I ask, thoroughly confused.

"Please, Elliot, listen to me. I'll never leave you. I will never leave you alone again. I love you son." He lowers himself down and sits with his back against a headstone.

"What are you talking about? What's he talking about?" I ask when the girls reach me. "Hey, I wanna know," I demand. "I wanna know!"

"Who are you talking to?" Darlene asks.

"What do you mean? I'm talking to-" I look around, but he's gone. The grave he was leaning on reads Edward Alderson. It's his.

Tara approaches, trying to hug me.

It's good to see her, but I back away because I always wanted to keep her separate from my crazy and now that line is fading. "Stay back!"

She looks broken and her wide eyes travel up to my forehead. "You're bleeding."

I put a hand to my forehead where she's staring. My leg begins to hurt and I can't stand on it.

"Elliot what are you doing here?" Darlene asks.

"You didn't see him?" I ask back.

"Who?" she questions.

This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This is happening, isn't it?

"Elliot, who do you think you've been talking to?" Angela asks this time.

You're gonna make me say it, aren't you? I am Mr. Robot.

1010011010

"You're gonna be okay," Ange says to me on the platform.

"I think I'm pretty far from okay," I tell her.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I envy you. I wish I could talk to my mom again, even if she isn't real," she says and then she hugs me. "Take care of yourself, okay?" she asks before leaving.

I see Tara, hovering, watching. I walk up to her and put my arms around her. I expect her to push me away, to run as far away from me as she can. Why would she want to be with someone as crazy as me? Instead, she puts her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest. This is really happening, right? She feels real. She feels warm.

The train comes and we pick three seats in a row. Darlene, Tara, and then I sit in the aisle seat. I keep an arm around Tara, terrified that she might disappear the same way my dad did.

"I know you don't feel like talking about it," Darlene begins.

"You're right, I don't," I snap.

"But I need to know," she continues. "Given what we've been doing, I just need to know: do you remember any of it?"

"Remember what?" I ask.

"When we first started fsociety," she hisses.

Tara looks at me, eyes wide. She knew I was a vigilante hacker, but I never told her specifics. I never told her about fsociety.

"I remember," I lie, knowing it's what they both want to hear.

1010011010

We enter the apartment and I sit on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. Tara sits beside me. I can feel her staring at me, but I can't bring myself to look at her.

"These are all empty?" Darlene dumps pill canisters on the table. "Are you just filling them and dumping them? Where are your new scripts?"

"What does it matter?" I respond. "I don't even know what's real anymore."

"Look, I know you feel shitty right now," Darlene tells me. "But once you take your meds…"

"Maybe we should stop it," I say.

"Stop what?" she asks, still going through my stuff.

I look at Tara and then at Darlene. They each expect so much from me. I want out. "The plan. The hack. Everything. Maybe we shouldn't execute it."

"What? Why?" Darlene panics. "The minute the server gets back on the main network, we're set."

"It wasn't me," I sigh. "The whole time, it wasn't really me doing all that."

"Elliot, the reasons we wanted to do this, our reasons are real. Maybe you don't realize this, but this is your idea. You came up with this. There is a part of you, somewhere deep down inside that knows this is the right thing to do," she tells me. "I'm gonna get your meds. We'll talk more when I get back, okay?"

"I agree with her," Tara says when my sister leaves. "About everything."

"You think I should do that hack?" I ask.

"Yes. Take down Evil Corp," she says. "And start taking your meds," she adds.

"My meds?" I growl.

She puts her hands on top of mine. "I feel awful. I feel like since I'm living with you I should have been paying more attention to you. I should have realized things weren't alright. And now you're hurt."

The door opens and we expect Darlene, but Tyrell Wellick walks in.

"What the hell?" I say.

He shushs me by holding a finger to his lips. He looks around the apartment and when he sees no one else he speaks. "I've been waiting outside your apartment until she left. Didn't want anyone to know I'm here. Didn't consider you though," he nods at Tara. "I must have missed you on the way in. I knew you two were together, but not this serious."

"Tara, you know him?" I ask, surprised.

"We were fuck buddies while I was in grad school," she shrugs.

He was the Swedish friend she wrote about. What a small fucking world.

"What are you doing here?" she demands of him.

"I know you're behind it," he says to me. "All of it: fsociety, the server, Colby, Allsafe. You're the one constant in a sea of variables. Elliot, now, I don't know what your grand plan is, but I need to and you're going to tell me. Two days ago I strangled a woman to death, just with my hands," he admits. "It's a strange sensation. Something so tremendous done by something so simple. First ten seconds were uncomfortable, feeling of limbo, but then your muscles tense and she struggles and in that moment, it's just you and absolute power, nothing else."

I'm not scared of him. I have anger, I know what it's like for it to explode out of you.

"That moment stayed with me," Tyrell continues. "I thought I'd feel guilty for being a murderer, but I don't. I feel wonder."

1010011010

I take him to Coney Island. Tara comes as well. We debated for a while if she should come. I don't want her to be a part of this, but Tyrell is just as unstable. She seems the most normal of the three so we agree to let her come.

"How long as this been going on?" he asks, looking around at the abandoned arcade.

"I don't know," I admit. I try to stand between him and Tara as we talk. I don't even want him looking at her.

"What is it you're doing exactly?" he asks again.

"Encrypting all the files, all of Evil Corps financial records will be impossible to access," I brag. "The encryption key will self-delete after the process completes."

"What about the backups?" he questions.

"I took care of that, too. China-"

"-Steel Mountain," he interrupts. "Of course, you really thought of everything. Who else was involved?"

"Just me," I lie. Tara raises her eyebrows at this, but says nothing.

"Well, now it's you and me," Tyrell grins. "I always told you we'd end up working together, Elliot. Still, I have to know: why did you do it? What did you hope to accomplish by doing all of this?"

"I don't know," I say and then reconsider. "I wanted to save the world."


	33. Episode 9- Tara

Ange is taking up the entire sofa, typing something on her laptop. I'm leaning against the door jamb into the kitchen, eating a snack pack. Dad asks if she would like to help in the garden and she shrugs him off. It's like our high school years all over again.

"You didn't tell me Darlene was back in town," he says trying to get her attention.

She freaks, completely surprised. She turns to look at me and I shrug. I had no idea either. Once Dad heads back into the garden, we grab our stuff and leave, looking for Darlene. Ange suggests we go to their old house, which I would never have been able to find without her. I had no memory of it, even when we walked inside.

"Hello?" Ange calls.

"Someone has to be here," I say. "The door was unlocked."

Darlene emerges from the dining room to welcome us. She had broken in first. Before we can catch up, we hear a car pull into the driveway. "Shit," she says. "New Dad's back."

We run through the house, out the back door, across the patio and hide behind the deck. Once we're sure he's not out back, looking for us, we sneak around the side of the house. Shards of glass crunch beneath my sneaker. I look up to see where it came from and see a broken window.

"Wasn't that Elliot's room?" Ange asks.

"I know where he is!" Darlene declares and runs off. "Come on!"

I run after her and Ange runs after me. We follow Darlene through the neighborhood until we reach a cemetery. It's the same cemetery we buried mom in twenty years ago.

I spot Elliot and renew my efforts, running faster. "Elliot!" I call excitedly. "Elliot!" I'm not even sure why it was so imperative to find him.

"What are you talking about? What's he talking about?" he demands when we finally reach him. "Hey, I wanna know; I wanna know!"

I take a step back startled. I have no idea what he's talking about or why he's so angry.

"Who are you talking to?" Darlene asks him.

"What do you mean? I'm talking to-" he glances about in what seems to be panic.

I notice that he his gaze rests on the headstone in front of him. Edward Alderson. Shit. I step forward to comfort him; give him a hug, but he steps backwards, increasing the distance between us.

"Stay back!" he cries.

I feel my heart crack at his rejection. I get it, I fucked up by not being there, by not realizing that he was splitting, but it hurts in a way I can't describe. "You're bleeding," I tell him, noticing a cut on his forehead.

"Elliot what are you doing here?" Darlene asks.

"You didn't see him?" he asks us.

"Who?" Darlene demands.

Elliot, who do you think you've been talking to?" Ange tries to get a response.

1010011010

I watch Ange talk to Elliot on the platform, but I can't hear what she's saying. There's a pit in my stomach that makes me feel like I want to vomit. I can't imagine what it's like to not know the difference between reality and fiction. All I know is I should have taken better care of him, not encouraged his drug habits because that's what normal people do when they care about somebody.

He walks up to me and hugs me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I put my arms around him and bury my face in his chest. He smells like cigarette smoke, but in a comforting, homey kind of way and I swear I'm going to look out for him like I hadn't before.

The train arriving pulls us apart. We all sit in one row, I'm in between the siblings, a bit squished. Elliot puts an arm around me, holding me close to him, but not actually saying anything.

"I know you don't feel like talking about it," Darlene says to him.

"You're right, I don't," he grunts back.

"But I need to know, given what we've been doing, I just need to know: do you remember any of it?" she asks.

"Remember what?" Elliot responds.

"When we first started fsociety," Darlene says.

Fsociety? As in the hacker group? I had no idea his vigilante hacking was an organized effort. He could have told me. Someone had given me a bunch of fsociety stickers and I had been tagging the city, posting them anywhere I could.

"I remember," Elliot answers.

1010011010

Elliot goes straight to the couch when we get to his apartment. He leans his head back and looks at the ceiling. I sit next to him, waiting for him to say something to me. Or at least recognize that I'm still here. I really have no idea what I should do in this kind of situation. i know he wouldn't want me tiptoeing around him, but he's worrying me.

"These are all empty?" Darlene asks with a handful of prescription pill bottles. "Are you just filling them and dumping them? Where are your new scripts?" she demands of him.

"What does it matter? I don't even know what's real anymore," he sighs.

"Look, I know you feel shitty right now," Darlene says beginning to rifle through his belongings. "But once you take your meds…"

"Maybe we should stop it," he interrupts her.

"Stop what?" she asks, still going through my stuff.

"The plan. The hack. Everything. Maybe we shouldn't execute it," Elliot explains.

I grimace, I don't want him to give up. He's spent so much time, trying to take down E Corp.

"What? Why?" Darlene asks. "The minute the server gets back on the main network, we're set."

"It wasn't me. The whole time, it wasn't really me doing all that," he tells her.

"Elliot, the reasons we wanted to do this, our reasons are real. Maybe you don't realize this, but this is your idea. You came up with this. There is a part of you, somewhere deep down inside that knows this is the right thing to do. I'm gonna get your meds. We'll talk more when I get back, okay?" Darlene leaves the apartment after finding the last prescription Dr. Gordon wrote him.

"I agree with her," Tara tell Elliot when Darlene is gone. "About everything."

"You think I should do that hack?" I asks, surprised.

"Yes. Take down Evil Corp," I insist. "And start taking your meds."

"My meds?" He replies, raising his eyebrows.

I grab his hands, bracing myself to be able to explain how I feel, something I've never been good at. "I feel awful. I feel like since I'm living with you I should have been paying more attention to you. I should have realized things weren't alright. And now you're hurt."

The door to the apartment opens, interrupting my speech, and Tyrell Wellick slips inside.

"What the hell?" Elliot exclaims.

Tyrell puts a finger to his lips, signaling us to be quiet. He glances around nervously, like a cop clearing the corners on a tv show. When he ascertains that there's no one besides me and Elliot he sits on the table and takes of his suit jacket. "I've been waiting outside your apartment until she left. Didn't want anyone to know I'm here. Didn't consider you though." You; as in Me. "I must have missed you on the way in. I knew you two were together, but not this serious."

"Tara, you know him?" Elliot asks me.

"We were fuck buddies while I was in grad school," I admit. I thought I had told him about Tyrell, but perhaps I had never mentioned his name in those letters.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him.

"I know you're behind it," he tells Elliot. "All of it: fsociety, the server, Colby, Allsafe. You're the one constant in a sea of variables. Elliot, now, I don't know what your grand plan is, but I need to and you're going to tell me. Two days ago I strangled a woman to death, just with my hands," he admits. "It's a strange sensation. Something so tremendous done by something so simple. First ten seconds were uncomfortable, feeling of limbo, but then your muscles tense and she struggles and in that moment, it's just you and absolute power, nothing else."

Of course I'm not scared of Killer Tyrell, not after Billy, but I had never heard anyone describe killing so poetically. That is what caught me off guard.

"That moment stayed with me," Tyrell kept speaking. "I thought I'd feel guilty for being a murderer, but I don't. I feel wonder."

1010011010

I have to debate with Elliot to take me with him as well. He doesn't want me involved in his fsociety world, but what if Tyrell tries to hurt him and I'm not there. I can't tell which of them is more unstable. There was a point in my life where I was the most unstable person I knew. And then I split my wrists open.

"How long as this been going on?" Tyrell asks when we enter the old arcade.

"I don't know," Elliot answers.

"What is it you're doing exactly?" Tyrell implores.

"Encrypting all the files, all of Evil Corps financial records will be impossible to access. The encryption key will self-delete after the process completes," Elliot tells him.

"What about the backups?" Tyrell asks further.

"I took care of that, too. China-" Elliot starts

"-Steel Mountain," Tyrell interrupts him. "Of course, you really thought of everything. Who else was involved?"

"Just me," Elliot lies.

I glare at him, but don't call him out in front of Tyrell. It's good to lie to someone like him.

"Well, now it's you and me," Tyrell smiles, excitedly. "I always told you we'd end up working together, Elliot. Still, I have to know: why did you do it? What did you hope to accomplish by doing all of this?"

"I don't know," Elliot answers, but then recants. "I wanted to save the world."


	34. Episode 10- Elliot

I wake up because I hear a knock and realize it's because of a man tapping on the car window. I bolt upright, completely disoriented. I open the door of the SUV and fall out. "Where am I?" I ask him, looking around and at the car I just left; I had never seen it before.

"What do you mean?" he says.

"Sorry, I mean, 'where am I?'" I ask again.

"You've been parked in the lot for the past two days. That's all you gave me before the credit systems went down," he explains. "I need some cash now, man."

 _This is Tyrell's car. Why were we in there? Where is Tara?_ I put my hands in my pocket. No phone, no wallet. Only a metro card.

"Ah, don't tell me you don't have any cash?" the man continues. "You're shit out of luck for a while, buddy."

"I don't understand," I tell him.

"How long have you been asleep?" he asks, a bit shocked.

I begin to panic and take a step away from him. I take a couple more steps, keeping him in sight before turning around and putting up my hood. My only thought is to get back to the arcade. Maybe Tara's there, maybe I left her with Tyrell. Either way there would be answers.

1010011010

"Jesus Christ! You're finally here!" Darlene shouts at me. "Where have you been?"

I look around the darkened room. The whole crew is here, working, but there's no sign I had ever brought Tara here at all. Did I make it all up?

"Yeah, man," Romero chimes in. "I mean not cool, not cool at all. I thought we were gonna execute together. What's going on here?"

"He's just saying that we had planned on something a little more ceremonial," Mobly interjects.

"Ceremonial, man?" Romero tries to argue. "We've been wiping drives, wrangling cables, pulling fiber taps, and the-"

"Everyone lay off!" Darlene interrupts him. "I'm sure he had his reasons. Besides, whatever, the point is, it worked."

 _Jesus, what did I do?_

"We need to clean up and get the hell out of here," Darlene says.

I ignore her, still searching for some clue as to what happened this weekend.

"Elliot? What's going on?" she demands. "You disappear on me at the apartment and come here to execute without even telling me?"

 _Execute? It executed? But how? What happened to Tyrell and Tara?!_

"Then you were gone for another three days," she continues. "Where have you been?"

"You're saying it went through?" I ask for clarification.

"Like gangbusters!" Darlene laughs. "Everyone's loving it. People actually want to join fsociety. They're organizing protests all across the city. Elliot!" she calls my name again when I don't give her an action. "What's going on? Are you still seeing him?"

 _No, but I need to. He could tell me where my Tara is._ I try to leave, but she stops me.

"Dude! You can't just leave. We're in wipe down mode here and we need your help."

"I told you we shouldn't have done this. Call Ange, have her call Tara, make sure she's alright?" I call as I'm walking out. Not that any of them will be able to call me when they reach her.

1010011010

Chaotic is not enough to describe Evil Corp right now. I make it all the way through the building without being noticed. I don't even know where Tyrell's office is, I'm the only one not moving at warp speed. Then I spot the sign. Elizabeth Chen. Assistant to T. Wellick.

"Can I help you with something?" she asks from behind her desk.

"Yes. I'm looking for Tyrell Wellick," I tell her.

"He's not here," she answers. "He doesn't work here anymore. Why are you here? What do you need to see him for?"

Before I can come up with a sufficient lie, my attention is drawn away by a voice from the news. "-This is fsociety claiming responsibility for the hack."

I join the crowd frozen in front of the scene.

"We are cutting live to the video right now," the female anchor continues.

Just as I expected, someone in a mustached mask is speaking in a dimly lit room that I know as the arcade. "Evil Corp," the dubbed voice begins. "We have delivered on our promise as expected. The people of the world who have been enslaved by you have been freed. Your financial data have been destroyed. Any attempted to salvage it will be utterly futile."

This isn't me saying those words, but I know those blue eyes.

"Face it. You have been owned. We hope as a new society rises from the ashes that you will forge a better world. A world that values a free people. A world where greed is not encouraged. And while you do that, remember to repeat these words. We are fsociety. We are finally free. We are finally awake."

The video stops on a close up of the mask as the anchor's voice begins speaking over the still frame. "The authorities have been trying to locate the whereabouts of the mysterious masked man as well as other members of the fsociety collective."

 _Oh, fuck, Tyrell._ I turn around and leave the building no more visible than when I entered it. I look for him next at his home address. When I hacked him it was listed in Chelsea.

1010011010

I knock on the door, but there's no answer. "Can I help you?" I woman asks.

I turn around and see a brunette with full lips pushing a stroller.

"Yeah, I'm looking for Tyrell Wellick. Is he here?" I ask her.

"No he's not," she answers simply.

"Do you know where he is?" I try again.

"Who are you?" she counters.

 _Good question._ "We work together." It's only a half lie.

"He'll be home soon. Just called me from the car ten minutes ago. Got stuck in some traffic. You're welcome to wait inside if you want," she says.

A handful of guys wearing fsociety masks run by us. "Yeah, bitch! That's how it is. Fsociety, baby!" They call.

"What did you say your name was?" Mrs. Wellick drives us back on track.

"Uh, I'm…Ollie."

"What are you working on with my husband?" I thought I had made it past the interrogation, but she continues to grill me.

"He wanted my advice. You know, about the hack that's going on right now," I lie.

"When was the last time you saw him?" she asks without missing a beat.

 _She's lying. He isn't coming. She's fishing; for what?_ "I'm not sure," I admit. "It was last week I think."

"Really? You know, between you and me, I'm a little concerned for Tyrell." she picks up the baby. I know she's trying to disarm me by making herself seem more human. "Was he acting strange when you saw him?"

"No."

"That's funny," she says, but she doesn't mean it. "Cause he was acting very strange last I saw him. Three days ago."

 _Didn't she say he just called?_

"Then he just vanished," she shrugs. After a moment she speaks again, but it's not in English.

Swedish, I think. Tara can speak Swedish. "Excuse me, I don't understand. Are you okay?" I ask when she doesn't answer or even look at me.

"Yeah, I think it's just the stress of the past few days getting to me," she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Anyway, I shouldn't take up anymore of your time. Thank you…Ollie."

I walk away, fighting the urge to look back at her over my shoulder. No wonder Tyrell is violently psychotic. I would be too if I had married a woman like her.

1010011010

I make sure the man working at the lot has left before I walk up to the SUV. I'm not sure why, but I'm compelled to open the trunk first. There's nothing. I get into the driver's seat and rifle through the middle consul; nothing. Glove compartment; nothing. The car's GPS has been wiped too. I pull out a pair of sunglasses. The side is a USB drive.

"Alright! Come out!" I yell into the air. "Come out now! Come on! I need to know what happened. Come on out! I'm here waiting for you! Come on, man! Come out!"

1010011010

Utterly defeated, I go to a café I know that has desktops and free wifi. I plug in the USB, but it's password protected. _He knows the password, of course, which means I know the password_. I log in and the only file on it is a video titled Boardwalk Fail. I double click, a new window opens and the video begins to play. It begins with some teenagers skateboarding. Then it pans through them to a hooded figure sitting on a railing. He falls, suddenly. I fall. He edited the video, looping it so the fall happens over and over again.

 _What's he trying to say? I'm on the hook for everything? Maybe I gotta force his hand._ "I need to use a landline," I tell the lady at the counter and she just passes it over without hesitation. _I need to get myself arrested._

"911 what's your emergency?"

"I have a confession to make," I begin.

I hand disconnects the call. "Alright, you got me," Mr. Robot shrugs. "Calm down, get your caramel latte. It's on me."

I throw him against the wall. "Where are they?" I demand.

"You know how this looks right? Very weird," he replies calmly.

"I don't give a shit! Where are they?" I yell.

"We made a deal that helped both of us," Mr. Robot explains calmly. "You're starting to attract some attention. I recommend you get one of those Bluetooth headsets. That way people just think you're the local douche."

I am sick of him joking around. "Tyrell disappeared along with Tara. No one knows where he is, but you know!"

"So do you," he sighs. "You forget, kiddo, I am you."

1010011010

He brings me to Times Square where we are in the middle of a march mass of masked faces. "I know you did it!" I persist. "Just tell me what happened to them?"

"Shut up!" he yells at me. "I've played nice for far too long. I'm so sick of your whining. It's not gonna change anything."

"He's right you know," my mom says.

"You're hurting the whole family, Elliot," says the little boy standing in front of her.

 _No, no, this isn't my family. None of them are real._

"Neither is whoever you're talking to!" My dad breaks through.

"Then you're not real, you're not real," I say to him.

"Is any of it real?" he chuckles. "I mean, look at this; a world built on fantasy. Synthetic emotions in the form of pills. Psychological warfare in the form of advertising. Brainwashing seminars in the form of media. You want to talk about reality? We haven't lived in anything close to it since the turn of the century. As far as you're concerned, Elliot, I am very real."

"No! No! No!" I shout. "I want to be alone! I need to be alone!" And I am. Everyone disappears. Not only my family, but the protestors as well.

"No, you don't want that," I hear my dad's voice and look up to see him on one of the screens. "Remember how you felt when you were alone? You were in pain. You were miserable. That's why we're here. Those lonely nights when you sat and cried in your apartment, you begged us to help you. You asked us to come. You needed us to come."

"No, I want you to leave!" I shout up at him. "Leave!"

"We're deep down inside you, Elliot," little me speaks. "You can't leave us and we can't leave you. Ever."

"It's true, son," My mom agrees.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" I cry.

"I'll tell you exactly what you're gonna do," Dad speaks again. He's calm now, not so malevolent. "You're gonna start listening to us. The world is a better place because of what we did, Elliot, and you're gonna realize that one way or another. Now, here's what I need you to do."

1010011010

It's late and the subway's nearly empty. I can't help it, but I begin to cry quietly to myself. An entire weekend, gone, vanished from my mind. An entire day running all over the city: Coney Island, to Chelsea, to Midtown and I never found Tyrell or Tara. Nothing has changed. I'm still crazy.


	35. Episode 10- Tara

"Tara?" Elliot asks for me to follow him outside of the arcade.

"What's up?" I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets. It's cold out for a summer night. Maybe it's the wind from the ocean, but I want to get back indoors.

"You dated douchebags," he says.

I shrug and hope smoking a cigarette will warm me up. "I never really dated them, I fucked around," I defend myself. "Until you."

He shakes his head, shrugs off what I'm saying. "You need to go."

"Go where?" I huff. "I'm here so Tyrell doesn't fucking kill you."

"I don't need you. I don't want you, so go," he sneers.

My breath catches in my throat and my heart stops beating. "You don't want me _here_ or you don't want me?" I manage to choke out.

"You complicate things," he explains to me. "Go home to Jersey, go back to your Dad. You don't belong here."

"No, Elliot!" I reach out to grab his arm and keep him from going back into that damn arcade.

He pulls out of my grasp and disappears.

I sink down to my knees, no idea what to do. Everything is crashing down. I gasp and tears start pouring. I can't see. There's nothing around me. There's nothing else. I hadn't realized it, but I had rebuilt my world around Elliot. I'm an idiot. I hug my knees to my chest and continue to cry. The cold is gone, but there's a pain in my chest that isn't going away.

I don't know how much time passes, but finally I run out of tears. I pick myself up and begin walking down the boardwalk. Each step feels like I have fallen from a then story building and landed flat on my feet. Each breath feels like knives inside my lungs. My eyes can't focus for more than a few seconds and not on anything further than a few feet in front of me.

But my feet carry me away anyway. I pass a few bums on the street, sleeping, but still holding their signs, begging for money, probably for drugs. Is that all I am? A junkie bum to be tossed aside when I'm no longer amusing?

At some point my phone ends up in my hand. I must have tried to call someone, but obviously every normal person was sleeping. Obviously not everyone in New York sleeps, but the two people I know other than Elliot did.

1010011010

I open my eyes and I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got to this place that I don't know. I'm sitting with my back against a pillar, my hands are in my jacket pockets with my hood pulled up. The first thing I notice is my ass is freezing. I notice several others siting the way I am and notice they had the sense to sit on a sheet of cardboard. I stand up and see all the people rushing around, ignoring the homeless. I'm at the Port Authority; about ten blocks north of where I need to be if I'm going to Jersey. I figure I don't want to deal with the crowded subway and decide that I can hoof it from 45th to 34th.

1010011010

I put my credit card into the ticket machine in Penn Station, but it won't work. I try several times, but it tells me the card isn't valid. I growl and kick the base of the machine. I pull what cash I have out of my pocket. I have thirty dollars that's enough for a one way trip and breakfast, but that would be the end of my money until I can get to get to a real bank. I go to the Dunkin Donuts on the main mezzanine, order a small coffee and a strawberry frosted donut. My stomach growls as I stand in line and I realize I'm not sure when I last ate. I inhale the donut and want another, but realize I don't know the exact price of a one way ticket bought on the train. I have only ever paid for round trips and always in advance at a ticket machine near the platform.

As I sip the coffee I look up at the enormous sign announcing the departing trains so I can catch the first one out of this damned city.

1010011010

I fell asleep on the train and walked from the station in a daze. The first time I'm truly aware of my actions, that the fog has lifted, doesn't last long. It comes when I'm banging on the door to the family home. "Daddy!" I'm crying. "Daddy!"

The door opens and I fall on top of him. "What happened, sweetie?" he embraces me and half-carries me inside.

I don't answer. The sadness has overwhelmed me again. I just want to curl into a ball and cry. One night of feeling sorry for myself wasn't enough. I trudge over to the couch and sit down. I pull my feet up and hug my knees. I try to keep the tears in and find words instead, but I can't. I become a blubbering fountain. Dad brings over a blanket and puts it around my shoulders and then sits in his chair. I know he's waiting for me to speak, but I don't know what to say to him. _The only person I've ever been in love with basically just told me I'm not worth it_? That is not a conversation I am ready to have.

Even before Tyler's death I didn't do emotions well. I successfully navigated life avoiding making important phone calls, large groups of people, talking one-on-one with people I didn't know, and going to new restaurants or public places without the support of my siblings. So when I had a mental breakdown, everyone thought I was being extreme. People die. Yes it's sad. Move on. But it wasn't that simple for me. I didn't know what I was feeling, just as I don't know what I'm feeling now. I can pinpoint despair, but there is so much more going on in my heart and my head, including the physical pain from last night that has not yet subsided.

Finally, I am able to catch my breath between sobs. "How's Angela doing?"

My dad sighs. I suppose he wanted me to talk about myself. "She's alright. She's dropping the lawsuit and took a job at E Corp. PR."

I feel bad for my sister. E Corp is going down and they won't be able to afford to keep newbie PR girls for much longer. "Can I stay here for a bit?"

He nods. "Of course, but you didn't bring anything with you."

I look at the ground and around the living room. _Shit, why didn't I ever think things through?_ "I'll borrow something of Ange's," I say and the tears again begin to flow.

1010011010

Sunday I don't even get out of bed. Dad brings me some food, but I don't eat it.

1010011010

I wake up again on Monday, disoriented. I plod downstairs and Dad looks excited to see me. "Good morning, hun. Are you gonna do something today?"

"This is bullshit," I tell him. "I deserve a reason! I deserve closure! I'm not gonna sit around and feel sorry for myself; I'm going to get answers. I'm going to figure this shit out!"

He has no idea what I'm talking about, but he nods enthusiastically anyway. "That's great. I'm proud of you. How about some eggs first though?"

That's when I notice that he as cooked a full meal for breakfast complete with toast and bacon. It smells delicious and he is able to convince me to eat a properly before I return to the city. "I hate to ask this, but do you have any cash? My cards weren't working on Friday."

"No one's are. While you were in bed the whole world's gone to shit," he chuckles and hands me fifty bucks.

Shit. They actually did it. I take out a twenty and hand the rest of the money back to my dad. "I just need the train ticket, thank you." I kiss his cheek goodbye.

1010011010

As I wait for the NJ Transit, the platform fills up with men in suits on Bluetooth headsets. The kind of men Elliot would always run away from. My stomach sinks. I have a job. I fish around in my pockets until I find my cell phone, but the battery is dead. I should ask someone if I can borrow there's to call out sick, but that's not an option. Just the thought of it makes my forehead sweat. But the thought of being a no call no show makes me nervous too. I run off the platform, find an isolated trash can and vomit. While I'm puking up my breakfast, the train comes and goes.

"Fuck!" I yell when I make it back to the platform and it's pulling away. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck!"

It's another forty minutes until the next train and I'll still have to change in Newark.

1010011010

The apartment is a mess. Elliot obviously hasn't been there and Flipper has shat everywhere. I sigh and take her out and then clean up the apartment and finally drowning it in Febreeze. Then I feed Flipper, plug my phone into the wall and sit on the couch. I dial Elliot's number and I can hear it ringing on the desk. I chuck my own phone across the room, accidentally scaring Flipper.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry, come here," I call and pat my knees.

The dog merrily bounces over and hops up on my lap, smothering me in kisses.

 _Why don't people work like this?_ I don't let Flipper off my lap unless I'm taking her out so she doesn't make a mess of the apartment again. I chain smoke all the cigarettes I have along with any leftover joints that I strategically placed out of sight. These keep my clam enough to avoid hysterics, until the sun sets. Elliot still hasn't returned and I'm beginning to lose my nerve. I sniffle and the tears begin to leak out, but I quickly dry my eyes with my sleeves. It's about as effective as bailing out a sinking boat with one bucket.

1010011010

The door opens and Elliot slips in the door, looking exhausted. My heat begins pounding and I stand up to face him. "I-I know you probably don't want me here, but I needed to talk to you."

He walks over to me and smashes his lips against mine. He kisses my cheeks, my forehead, my whole face before returning to my lips. I forget everything I rehearsed saying as soon as his hands touch my hips.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs.

I find the strength to pull away. I can't think straight when I'm that close to him. "It's not okay, Elliot! You can't tell me to just fuck off like that."

He sits down on the couch and pulls my arm to that I sit down next to him. "I don't remember that," he says quietly. "The last thing I remember before today is bringing you and Tyrell to the arcade. Then this morning, I woke up in Tyrell's SUV.

He blacked out, completely. That's terrifying. That's a lot more dangerous than just seeing and talking to your dead dad. _What am I supposed to do with this information? I'm not qualified to help._ "So you don't remember telling me that you don't need me, that you don't want me here?" I ask.

"No and I don't know what happened to Tyrell either," he tries to explain. "So you don't know what happened either?"

I shake my head. "I left like you told me to and haven't spoken to either of you since. Do you black out a lot?"

"Never like this," he tells me. "It's more a question of what's real and what's not."

"Why haven't you told me?" I feel like when you live with someone you should talk about your problems, especially involving mental health. He never needed to go through this alone.

"I'm crazy; this isn't normal! I thought you would leave me and I couldn't handle that," he confesses.

I reach out and grab his hand, squeezing to let him know I'm still here. I want to tell him exactly what he means to me, but I don't know how. Before I can come up with the words to explain myself, someone bangs on the door and Elliot goes to answer it.


	36. Episode 10 Part 2- Elliot

"When I get to my apartment, Tara is sitting on the sofa with Flipper in her lap. She looks like she's been crying.

"I-I know you probably don't want me here, but I needed to talk to you," she begins, standing up.

I have no idea what she's talking about, but all I can think about is that she's here and she's alive. I move in close to her and kiss her. With my hands on her hips, I pull her as close to me as I can. I kiss her cheeks and her nose and back to her lips. I confirm that she has been crying because her face damp and salty. I can't believe she was crying and I wasn't here for her. "I'm sorry," I tell her, it's not enough to make up for abandoning her.

She pulls away anyway. "It's not okay, Elliot! It's not okay to tell me to just fuck off like that."

I still don't know what she's talking about. What else had happened this weekend? _I can't keep keeping these secrets. I mean, she already knows that I've been talking to my dead dad, how much worse can this be, right?_

"I don't remember that," I admit. I sit on the sofa and pull her down, too. "The last thing I remember is bringing you and Tyrell to the arcade, then this morning, I woke up in Tyrell's SUV."

She sits in silence for a moment. "So you don't remember telling me to go away?"

"No and I don't know what happened to Tyrell either." Talking about it out loud makes it seem more real and I begin to fidget, hoping I don't go into full on panic mode. "So you don't know what happened either?"

"I left like you told me to and haven't spoken to either of you since." she explains and then gently asks: "Do you black out a lot?"

I shake my head. "Never like this. It's more a question of what's real and what's not."

"Why haven't you told me?" she seems more upset at the fact that I had kept a secret than what the secret actually was.

"I'm crazy; this isn't normal," I admit. "I thought you would leave me and I couldn't handle that."

Tara reaches out and squeezes my hand. She looks as though she's about to say something and I can't help but think of the dream I had while I was detoxing, of her in a wedding dress. Before either of us can say anything, someone pounds at my door.


	37. College Letters V

_November 11, 2011_

 _Dear Elliot,_

 _I think I've made myself sad. I let myself think about how far away I am from you, Ange, and Ty. Ty and I have never really been apart like this before. These two months have felt more like a year._

 _I think I might be getting sick, too. I'm exhausted, all I want to do is sleep, and I don't want to eat anything, I've completely lost my appetite. these past couple of days. But turkey actually sounds pretty good right now. Oh mashed potatoes! I forgot that thanksgiving is a purely American holiday until I got over here._

 _Halloween isn't really a thing here either. Some people had pumpkins, but there's no trick or treating. and I thought this place was good, but clearly I was wrong. The young people like it though, so there was a Halloween party on campus I went to. I dressed up as the Marvel Thor just to see how many Scandinavians I could piss off. The American that thinks Thor wore a cape._

 _I wrote Ty, but he hasn't answered. Kick him in the ass for me?_

 _Love,_

 _Tara_


	38. Non Sequitur II- Elliot

Agitated is an understatement. Nothing is working out. Tara is the only thing I have right now and I'm not even sure how much of her I have. I slam the door closed and she jumps up, startled. My eyes go straight to her long legs. She's wearing a skirt that barely covers her butt. I shrug my hood of and take two long steps across the room, crashing my lips into hers, my hands grabbing at her ass.

She kisses me back, letting me push my tongue into her mouth and I throw her up against the wall.

I rip open her button down shirt and push her skirt down, off her legs.

She lifts my shirt and hoodie over my head, only pausing her kisses for that one second.

I need her. I move her over to the bed where I pin her down. I bite on her neck.

"Elliot," she groans and moves to take off my pants.

I growl and move my hand down her body and in between her legs. I rub her and then slide two fingers inside of her and then a third.

She whimpers, but doesn't tell me to stop.

I push myself inside of her and groan. God, she feels so good.

She cries out again. Her hips begin bucking into my thrusts.

"Tara," I breathe out her name. I feel it welling up inside of me and as soon as I know I'm going to come, I explode in her, feeling blissful for the only second of my life.

Her hands move to my hips and she moans, loudly.

When I finish, I don't pull out. I lay down on top of her, my head on her chest, listening to her heart beat rapidly. It pounded in my ear, blocking out any other noise.

Her hand goes to my hair and I sigh, content.

Eventually I roll off of her and she wraps and arm around my waist, making me the little spoon.

She's still mine and maybe not everything sucks.


	39. Non Sequitur II- Tara

I'm spinning in Elliot's chair, going faster and faster like when I was a kid. I don't know where he is or where he's been. I don't mind when he's gone sometimes, but now he's never around. The apartment door slams shut and I spring to attention, startled. I lose my balance for a second and I see two Elliots. In a second, he's kissing me and I'm grateful I can use his body for support. His hands go right for my butt and I kiss him back.

Elliot pushes me against the wall, his tongue down my throat.

I am so turned on. I want him. It's been so long and I can feel how hard he is through his jeans. I let him tear open my shirt and I try to keep kissing him as he completely undresses me. I grab at the hem of his shirt and lift it over his head, hoodie and all. Before I can undo his pants, he pushes me onto the bed.

He bites down on my neck causing me to moan.

"Elliot!" I say and get my hands on his belt, making sure to rub him through his boxers before taking those off as well.

He takes this as confirmation that I want him and he shoves his fingers inside of me.

It feels so good and I want more of him. I whimper as he slides another finger in.

In one quick motion, he pulls out and thrusts himself inside of me.

I scream. Having him inside of me feels unbelievable and I can't get close enough. I grind my hips into his and feeling his skin on mine is still not enough.

"Tara," he moans my name.

The gesture pulls me to the edge of ecstasy.

I pull on his hips, bringing him in closer to me and my body jerks forward as I climax with a moan.

Elliot finishes and lays on top of me, panting.

I reach up to pet his hair, enjoying the moment of intimacy. When he does roll off from on top of me, I reach around and pull him into back to me, claiming my position as the big spoon as I refuse to let him go.

God, he's so thin. I should make him eat something, I think.

But I don't move. I kiss his shoulder and rest my forehead against his bare back. I knew I shouldn't have thought it, but he could disappear as much as he wants if he comes back and fucks me like this.


	40. Message to Tara in the Hospital

_Hey Tara,_

 _I don't know if you'll write me back or even read what I'm writing you, but I want you to know that I'm still here. Ange is still here, too. I also want you to know that I'm not judging you for what you did. I don't hate you, I'm not mad at you, I don't blame you, but I'm glad you're still alive. Please, come home soon. We need you here. We want you here._

 _Love, Elliot_


	41. Message to Tara in the Hospital II

_Tara,_

 _I came by yesterday, but they wouldn't let me see you because I'm not family. Ange said she was coming by a lot. It would mean a lot if you actually saw her, though. She loves you. You're her sister. I hope you're feeling up to coming home soon. If not for me, because Ange started dating a total dipshit and needs saving._

 _Love, Elliot._


	42. Flashback to 2013- Elliot

I stood in front of the door, hesitating before knocking. I couldn't believe I was here, but Angela didn't know where Tara was; no one did. They knew she had been hanging around with this new guy, Billy, but they never saw her. I knew where to find Billy: half because of drugs, half because I wasn't about to let Tara date someone who would hurt her.

A skinhead with a neck tattoo opens the door; Billy.

"I need to see Tara," I say, but it sounds more like a question.

He narrows his eyes and takes a drag on his cigarette. "Who the hell are you?"

"Where is she? Is she alright?" I push past him into the apartment.

"She's laying down. She has a migraine," he tells me.

I find her face down on the bed in his room. "Tara?" I ask, beginning to panic.

"Yo! I told you she doesn't feel good!" Billy grabs me by the collar of my shirt and throws me against the wall.

"Billy, don't you touch him!" comes a muffled groan from Tara.

Immediately, Billy drops me.

"What's going on?" she asks with squinted eyes. In fact, they might have been closed.

I kneel down beside the bed. "Ty's in the hospital."

She mumbles incoherently and then waves towards the dresser. "Sunglasses."

I pass her the sunglasses and she shoves them on her face. Then, she swings herself out of bed. The glasses aren't enough so I give her my sweatshirt and she pulls the hood up until it covers nearly half her face.

"I'll be back," she mumbles to Billy and then stumbles along behind me.

The subway ride is silent. I don't know what to say to her.

Outside of the hospital doors, Tara stops. "I can't go in there," she says.

I don't answer.

"I know what they're gonna say and I don't know if I can hear that," she continues, looking to me for comfort.

I still don't know what to say because I've already heard it from Ange. Tyler's cancer hasn't improved at all, but has in fact, gotten worse. They don't think they'll be able to cure him, but his best shot is remaining in the hospital; more chemo. I pull open the door and hold it for Tara to walk through. Lowering the hood over her eyes even more, she does.


	43. College Letters VI

_12-1_

 _Dear Tara,_

 _I'm sorry your holidays are disappointing over there. What about your birthday, though? 23 isn't a bad number. Shit, we're old. So do they at least celebrate Christmas there? That's a pretty major holiday even if it can be depressing. It's Christian and Pagan. Are the Christian over there?_

 _Have you been making art? Do you even have time? I miss those crazy, whacked out portraits you used to do. I bet you could sell them and then never have to work again. I'm thinking about this because I absolutely hate my new job. I really hate that I have to earn money. It'd probably be more fun to be a white hat for the FBI, but it's not like I could trust them either. I hack the wrong thing and they'll make me disappear. It's not all bad, though. My boss is actually a good guy. His name's Gideon. It's cool working with Ange, too._

 _I've got a new place. It's a piece of shit loft, but it's closer to AllSafe. I need that since I always seem to be running late. I never know what time it is, but you know that already._

 _It's easier to write letters than to talk. I can just vomit everything onto this page and then I don't have to immediately worry about what you're gonna say. I can delay my panic for a few weeks. I also don't have to worry about social cues for responses. You get that, right? Please say you get that._

 _Hey, by the time you get this, it'll only be another six months until you're home._

 _Love, Elliot_


	44. Flashback 2012- Tara

My back aches, my stomach is growling, and my headache suggests that I might be dehydrated. I should be excited to see my family, but I really just want to grab my suitcase and get home without answering a thousand questions. I push my way through the crowd towards the luggage carousal. It's more than easy to spot my family. Ange had made a welcome home sign. With glitter. Tyler rushes forward and smothers me and I can't help but to laugh. I pat him reassuringly on the back and then groan that I still need to get my suitcase.

"It will still be there in a few minutes. You have a couple more hugs to get through," he replies and pulls me towards my welcoming party.

"It's good to have you back, sweetheart," Dad pulled me into his own embrace.

Ange has her turn to hug me next, spinning me around as she does so. When she releases me, I look towards Elliot. I was a bit surprised he came, knowing how stressed he was at the airport when I left. He smiles at me and I grin back. I'm home.


	45. Flashback 2012- Elliot

It's crowded in the airport. Where is she? The sooner she gets off the plane, the sooner we can go home. I'm scanning the mass of people and finally I spot her, elbowing her way towards us. Tyler rushes forward, engulfing her in a hug until I can no longer see her. He pulls his sister over towards us. Tara hugs her father first and then Angela. Ange is so excited that she spins around with her sister while crushing her. When she is freed, she looks towards me and my heart skips a beat. That's not normal. My heart has never skipped for Tara. I must have missed my friend more than I thought. Just to be sure, I don't step closer and hug her. She doesn't seem offended as she smiles at me, and I smile back.


	46. Flashback 2014- Tara

I run. My feet pounding against the concrete of the sidewalk. I focus on my breathing so I don't think about why it is I'm running. The people move out of my way instinctively, but I wish that they don't. I want to run into them. I want to fall down, skin my knees, scrape my elbows. I want the pain in my chest to manifest itself in some way that I can see. Only when I stop running do I realize I am drenched in sweat. I lost my breath several blocks ago and now I am hyperventilating. I ran past the point of exhaustion. I am lost.

I glance back the way I came and was surprised to see Elliot. He seemed better off, able to breathe at least. I consider backing away from him when he approaches, so that he can't tell me everything I don't want to hear. I don't want to believe Tyler is gone. But he doesn't say a word. He puts an arm around my shoulders and guides me back.


	47. Episode 11-12- Tara

It's been a week since Elliot lost three days of his life. I feel like I've lost them, too. We haven't been able to get back to where we were. I tiptoe around him, terrified of getting to close, of losing myself in my love for him. I stay because he's struggling and I want to help. I stay because I'm still in love with him.

He comes back from God knows where; frantic. "I've figured it out," he declares. "I won't give him access to a computer, a phone, anything he can hack. I need to account for everything, every moment to make sure I don't lose any time. He'll never be in control."

I'm not sure who Elliot is talking about; if it's the delusion of his father or someone else. But I do know his idea is shit. It's not healthy and it's not right.

"I need to go," he continues to ramble. "Can you keep Flipper? You can keep everything actually. The rent is paid up. If you want to keep paying next month, go for it. You could probably afford someplace better, though. Goodbye, Tara."

I hadn't noticed that he had been packing while he spoke. His words hit me like a sucker punch to my gut. "Wait." I reach out and grab his arm. "Where are you going?" The words were thick on my tongue and I felt my throat closing up. I can't swallow and I can hardly think past trying to get him stay.

"To my mom's. You'll be better off without me." He wrenched his arm free and left.

I pick up the closest object to me; an empty water glass and hurl it at the closed door where Elliot's back was just moments before. "You don't get to decide that!" I yell as the cup shatters into a thousand shards.

He is moving boroughs to live with the woman who had traumatized him as a child and just like that I am alone again. I don't speak to Ange now that she is a permanent Evil Corp employee. _Evil Corp, look how he has wormed his way into my mind._ Tyrell, as far as I know, is dead or in hiding. Now Elliot has just quit my life. Flipper yaps at me, circling my ankles. At least I got custody of the dog. What a fucking cliché.

Everything about that apartment made it Elliot's and without him it wasn't home. So I moved as soon as I could. I ran away from it to an equally shitty studio only a couple blocks away.

1010011010

I'm lying on my bed in a bra and Soffe shorts, staring at the ceiling. My phone rests on my stomach. I'm waiting for it to stop ringing; an answer.

"Tara, babe," says the voice on the other end.

 _When did I stop trying to call Elliot and start calling Billy?_ "Are you holding?" I ask.

"Always," he chuckles. "Want me to come to you?"

"Sure. I've got a new place." I tell him the address. He ends the call and I don't move. My phone is still on my stomach and I'm still shirtless when he knocks on the door less than an hour later. "Use some force. The lock won't stay," I call.

Following my instruction, Billy stumbles into the apartment. "Jesus. That's not safe," he says. "When you said a new place, I thought it would be an improvement."

"It is," I lie. "I'm not sharing it with anyone."

Billy chuckles and plops down on the mattress next to me. "So it ended badly, huh?" he says.

"Can it ever end well?" I ask.

"We did."

"We didn't end," I tell him. "We just stopped. Are you checking me out?" I say. I notice him turn his head in my peripherals, but I remain staring at the ceiling.

"Of course," he admits.

"Do you wanna fuck?" I ask. I don't want to fuck _him_ , but I want to pretend I'm still loved at least for an hour.

He puts a hand on my abdomen and slides it across to my far hip which he grabs and pulls towards him. It forces me to roll onto my side and face him. Billy presses his lips against mine and I close my eyes as I kiss back. Billy rolls on top of me and begins running his hands over my body. He's gentle even as he grinds his hips into mine. Half of me wants to scream and kick him away. That's the side that knows this feels wrong. The other half of me never wants him to stop because it feels good like I have found myself in someone else's life.

1010011010

That's how my life passes for the next month. I don't feel like I'm me. I have moments of clarity where I wake up and wonder where I am, how I got there, what I'm doing.

I'm at a bar. I don't remember getting changed after work, but here I am, sauntering up to Billy. He's talking to some friends and I place myself on his lap like I belong there. I wiggle playfully until I'm comfortable.

"Careful," he chuckles in my ear and puts a hand on my thigh.

I wiggle some more just to tease him and Baz speaks up.

"So, Tara, been a long time since you've been around," he says.

"Shit happens," I shrug. "I'm around now." A few years ago I would have come up with something snarky: Aw thanks for noticing. I missed you too. But I don't feel like giving Baz any kind of validation. _Go to group therapy_ , I think. _That's the only way you'll get some personal affirmation._  
1010011010

I am naked in Billy's bed and smoking a joint. He is placing kisses on my shoulder. On the table by the bed is a gun and numerous crumpled bills. The apartment is sweltering. The open windows let in all kinds of sounds from outside: cars honking, screeching to a halt, pigeons squawking, men cursing, girls laughing. It's as though the walls are not even there.

1010011010

I'm standing on a corner, leaning against the bricks of a building and smoking a cigarette. A boy slides a twenty into my hand and in the same motion I slip him a dimebag of weed. Then I walk away, back to Billy, back to his crew. Somehow I have been transported back to two years ago when I lost Tyler. Things change so quickly. I feel like no time has passed at all.

1010011010

I am floating through the streets of a city I am no longer sure is mine. A series of television sets catch my eye as I pass by an appliance store. All of the screens play the same news channel. The president is speaking at a press conference. This isn't what interests me. It's the name written in the band of text below Obama: Wellick. I top and watch. The FBI knows he was involved in the attack on Evil Corp. All the effort I expounded trying to keep Elliot from my mind is rendered useless because my thoughts go straight to him; all my care and concern is focused on Elliot.

I grab the first train I can to get to his mom's house. I knock on the door and she answers. My heart sinks. I had replayed this moment over and over in the subway. Elliot would answer the door and my heart would flutter at seeing him. He would smile because he missed me just as much as I missed him. I would explain why I was there and he would reassure me that he was alright, safe. He would kiss me and we'd embrace, falling back into each other.

"Uh, is Elliot here?" I ask.

"No," she answers.

"Do you know where he is?" I try again.

"No."

"Wow, good job keeping track of your kid," I sneer and storm away. _When did I become so angry?_ I think, but my thoughts quickly change. _Bitch probably doesn't even know he's sick._ Resigned, I head back to my place where Flipper is waiting to be let out.


	48. Episode 11-12- Elliot

It took a bit of persuading, but I'm able to convince Krista to see me. So I tell her where I'm at.

"My perfectly constructed loop. I should have seen the first interruption for what it was, but it didn't occur to me that the news could disrupt it. Not even the announcement that the FBI is confirming Tyrell's involvement in the hack. I carry on with the beginning of my routine. 8am breakfast with Leon. He's just discovered Seinfeld. I like him because the more I hang out with him, the less I have to talk. At 10am I help out around the house. Then I have lunch with Leon at noon. After that at 2 we go to the courts to watch basketball. I still don't get sports. They get so emotional over the weirdest things. It's been a month, but I still think about how Tara would never have brought sports into our world. Then at 4:30 I clean up around the house. Mom watches the news all day; another constant. At 6, I have dinner with Leon.

"I've been keeping a journal. It's the only way to keep my program running like it's supposed to. Then I go to bed. My mom has no computer or internet access to tempt me in the night. Repeating each day's task without ever having to think about them; isn't that what everybody does? Keep things on repeat? isn't that where it's comfortable?"

It feels good to have someone to tell these things to.

"Why your mom?" she asks. "Why here specifically?"

"She's the strictest person I know," I explain.

"But you've attributed a lot of your childhood trauma-"

"Better the devil you know then the devil you don't, right?" I cut her off to defend my decision.

"You left Tara?" she continues the volley of questions.

"Yeah." _Why did she have to bring up Tara?_

"Why?"

I sigh. I beginning to feel sad again. "She's better without me."

"Better?"

"Safer," I clarify. "She's safer."

"Do you feel alone?" Krista asks.

 _Yes._ "Darlene comes by some times," I shrug.

"Is there anything you miss about your old life?"

 _Everything._ "It doesn't matter even if I did."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I can't trust myself back there," I answer. I don't know how to explain that I don't even know what I've done.

"Why do you think you can't trust yourself?" Krista asks, but I don't answer.

I don't answer because I don't want to go there: talking about him, acknowledging that he exists. I want him to disappear.

"Elliot, I'd like you to respond to my question please."

"It's not that I don't trust myself," I tell her. "I don't trust him."

1010011010

When I get back from my appointment with Krista, he's there, in my room, on my bed. I ignore him and begin writing in my journal.

"We can't stay here," he says. "There is more work to be done. Our revolution needs a leader! And what are we doing instead? Journaling. Che Guevara is throwing up in his grave right now."

"You want my attention?" I finally address him. "Tell me what I want to know. Tell me where Tyrell is."

"I can't do that," he points the gun at my head.

This is all getting old. I'm tired of asking him questions he won't answer. I'm tired of getting shot in the head. The gun goes off, the impact knocks me over, but I get up, again. "Are you done?" I ask. This is my life now.

1010011010

Gideon came by to talk to me. A disruption. He is loving it.

"Something wrong?" Gideon asks.

I'm barely paying attention to my old boss. "It's good to see you Gideon." It's probably the most honest things I've said in weeks.

"I know we didn't leave things on the best of terms," Gideon begins tentatively. "There's no Allsafe; I'm sure you've heard. I've had to furlough everyone. I'm hoping to get up and running again, but everyone's telling me it's over."

"Gee, I wonder whose fault that is?" Mr. Robot says sardonically. "Was that you or me?"

It's hard to focus when Gideon begins asking for my help to prove his innocence to the FBI. I feel guilty, but I don't know what happened either. This is why I left everyone behind. I make Gideon leave. I have to meet Leon for lunch.

1010011010

Leon is still on his Seinfeld kick and by the time I'm walking home, I'm exhausted. Still, I notice someone outside the house. The figure is heading down the walkway and turns onto the sidewalk away from me. I'm too far away to see properly, but the figure walks like a girl. She walks like Tara. My heart clenches and I want to call out to her. I know it's not her, it can't be her, and no matter how badly I want it to be her, I need her to stay away. So when I'm inside, I don't ask my mom about it and she doesn't bring it up. But it haunts me all day and night. I can't sleep because I'm thinking about her; the only girl I've ever loved and I can't even be with her.

1010011010

Today is different. The disruptions keep adding up and my perfect system doesn't seem so perfect anymore. The basketball goes out of bounds, rolling to Leon's feet.

"Hey, dipshit, can't you see we need the ball?"

Slowly, Leon picks it up. He dribbles it once, taunting the player. "This ball?"

"That ball. What you slow or something?" the player answers.

"Nah, I ain't slow, bro," Leon throws the ball away. "Get your own ball."

Leon wants to fight and I'm sure the player is going to give it to him until a large man with a basset hound on a leash brings the ball over.

"Hey, I got it," he says, breaking it up.

Leon dips, leaving me alone with the newcomer. I shift uncomfortably; I don't like the variation.

"Maxine's been acting a little off lately," the man says. "She really perked up when she saw you. You a dog person?"

My heart starts to hurt. _How can I feel so much physical pain when I'm not hurt?_ "Used to have one," I admit.

"Oh yeah? What happened to it?" he asks.

"Don't have her anymore," I reply simply. _Or Tara._

He keeps talking. His name's Ray.

 _How is he finding stuff to say?_

"…but unlike you when it comes to computers," he says and I instinctively latch on. "Well I get them about as much as Maxine here gets E.E. Cummings. So when I heard-"

"Whatever you heard, it's not true," I tell him. "I don't do that anymore."

"Tell him you'll help," Mr. Robot says over my shoulder.

"Not many to talk to around here except for these knuckleheads," Ray says. "Mind if we keep talking?"

 _I need to shut him down._ "No thanks."

"Damn, man. That's cold, brutal shit right there. Okay, I can take a hint." He leaves with Maxine and I continue watching the game on my own.

1010011010

Ray is at the court again today. I eye him warily as he sits beside me. "Maxine wanted to come over and say hi. She missed you. I think the damn dog might actually like you more than me. See that smile?"

"Hey, man, I don't mean to be an asshole, but it's like I said before-"

"Wait, I'm confused," he stops me. "I thought we were on the same page."

"About what?" I ask.

"When we spoke last night," Ray explains.

"I don't know what you're talking about, man. I didn't see you last night," I tell him and then bite my tongue. _Wait, did I? Shit._

"You really don't remember. You feeling okay, chief?" he asks.

 _No, I feel sick. It's happening again._ I get up and run home. He's there. He's been waiting for me. I don't remember what he says. I lose time again and I'm terrified when I find myself in the hall, holding the phone. It's ringing on the other end. I just hope I stayed away from Tara.

"Hello?" I say when they pick up.

"Is it really you?" the voice asks.

"Who is this?"

"Bonsoir, Elliot," he chuckles.

 _Tyrell._ I had half-thought Mr. Robot had gotten rid of him. I'm partially relieved that he can tell me what happened, but the other part of me wants nothing to do with it. He belongs to my old life.


	49. Episode 13- Tara

This job at The Met is draining the life out of me. I thought it would be great to be surrounded by magnificent artwork every day, but mostly I'm fending off calls and looking up accession numbers. At least I have an office, well it's a bit makeshift, more of a cubicle. I groan and look up at the ceiling as someone knocks on the wall to announce themselves.

"Tara?"

"Hi Maggie," I try to smile at my coworker. "What's up?"

"Did you get my call?" she asks. "I called your cell."

I can't remember my phone ringing and reach into my pocket to check for the missed call. My phone isn't there so I check my other pockets and then my bra. As I'm searching I realize I can't remember the last time I had it in my hand. "Shit. Sorry. I don't know where my phone is. What was it about?"

"I'm not going to be around Friday so I need the write up for the Rodin exhibit by Thursday," she explains.

 _Shit. What was today? Tuesday? Wednesday?_ "You'll have it," I say, although I am more concerned with what had happened to my cell phone. After she leaves I continue to scour the office, emptying the entire contents of my purse onto my desk. Nothing. With a sigh, I scoop everything back into the bag and hastily begin patching together facts from Rodin's life adding half-assed commentary about the influence on his sculpture. I don't think there is anything incriminating on it, but I like to panic over nothing. I keep trying to reassure myself that it's at the apartment; mine or Billy's, but I can't be certain. It feels like the whole building has suddenly gotten hotter. I take off my blazer, but I have already begun to sweat. _Focus,_ I tell myself. _You'll find it. Focus on Rodin._ I don't even know why I'm in this department. My specialization is in Medieval history. Rodin was a 19th century sculpture. I end up leaving work an hour early. I email what I wrote to Maggie and then I run from the museum.

I open the door to my apartment and thank god Flipper isn't a larger dog. She is so excited to see me that if she was a Pitbull or a Shepard, she'd have tackled me. I gently push her away and turn on all the lights, which isn't much, but it'll help as I search for my phone. I start over by my bed, checking the pillows and then picking up the mattress because maybe the phone fell between it and the wall while I was sleeping. _Damn. The sofa._ I pull up all the cushions and throw the pillows across the room. It's not in the kitchenette either. I didn't leave it in the bathroom. I run my fingers through my hair and take a shaky breath. Now I'm in full panic mode. My stomach churns and I think I'm going to be sick. I manage to swallow it, keep it down. Instead I pat down my hair and run a finger underneath each eye, wiping up any smeared eyeliner.

It's getting late and I want to stay in and cry about my missing phone because honestly, what if Elliot finally calls? I feel that I have no choice, but to go to Billy's so I clip on Flipper's leash hoping a walk would stop her barking. She stops immediately as we get outside, walking like the well-behaved dog she isn't. "Good dog," I tell her and we begin walking across town.

Mac is outside the apartment building, leaning against the old clunker that he thinks is a car and smoking a cigarette. He's talking to a scantily clad young girl, but takes time to greet me. "You might not want to go up there just yet," he says.

"Why not?" I ask. I immediately think that Billy has another girl in his bed. It probably should upset me, but it doesn't. I'm not his girlfriend and I'm not over Elliot.

"Some sketchy dude just came looking for him," Mac explains. "Scrawny, but sketchy as fuck. Dude looked crazy."

I ignore Mac's advice and carry Flipper up the stairs so that I can get to Billy quicker. The door to apartment 23B is cracked when I get there. I push it all the way open and see Billy arguing with Elliot. I do a double take, thinking I had imagined him, but he is still there; black jeans, black hoodie.

"You need to leave. You need to stay away from her," Billy is saying.

"Why? Don't pretend that you're in love with her when you're not," Elliot sneers.

"She knows I'm not, but we're friends and you hurt her. So leave before I hurt you," threatens Billy.

I'm still too in shock to process what they're saying. Flipper reacts better. She recognizes Elliot and jumps from my arms. The boys turn to me, noticing my arrival for the first time. "Um, did I leave my phone here?" I ask quietly.

"Tara," Elliot breathes and takes several steps towards me.

I hold out a hand to stop him. "Just. I need to find my phone."

"I haven't seen it," Billy says. "But I'll try calling it."

The three of us stand in awkward silence while Billy holds on to his phone. Elliot holds Flipper and looks unsure if he should stay or take Billy's advice and get out. Billy puts his phone on speaker and we here two rings through his phone before the buzzing of my phone reaches me. I let out a sigh of relief, not realizing that I have been holding my breath. Billy takes three strides and is on the other side of the apartment, digging my phone out from between his sofa cushions.

"Here you go," he smiles as he hands it to me.

"Thanks," I take it. I'm still talking quietly and my voice sounds strange to me. I know it's because I'm trying not to cry, but I'm not sure why I want to cry.

"Do you want me to kick his ass?" he asks as he looks at Elliot.

I shake my head. "No. I'm going to talk to him." I kiss Billy on the cheek and hold up my phone. "I'll call you later."

He nods. "You fuck with her again and I will kill you," he says.

"Come on," I pick up Flipper's leash and tug on Elliot's hoodie sleeve, signaling him to follow. We walk down the two flights of stairs in silence and back outside, past Mac.

"Yo yo yo," he pushes himself away from the girl. "What's he doing? You good?"

"We're fine, Mac," I wave him away.

He doesn't need to be told again and wraps himself around the girl.

"So what are you doing here, Elliot?" I ask.

"Looking for you."

"Yeah, I gathered that. Why?" I growl.

He reaches out and grabs my arm to stop me from continuing to walk. "I am so fucking sorry. I am so sorry. I fucked up. I fucked up. I need you, Tara. I love you and I need you."

I work my hand out of his. "I love you, but I can't do this again Elliot. I'm sick of crying over you."

"I need you," he chokes. "Please, Tara. I got lost, but I love you. Can I have another chance? Stop that." He grabs my hands, pulling them apart.

I hadn't realized, but I had been digging my nails into the tops of hands. It was a nervous habit that I hadn't done since Tyler got sick. Now I'm anxious and I'm not sure how to respond. "Okay," I finally sigh. "But we're starting over. I'm not just falling into you again."

He nods, accepting my condition. "Coffee? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. See you then," I tell him and walk away. It had taken all of my will power to not throw my arms around his neck and smother him in kisses. I thought I was being strong, but now my heart hurts and I feel twisted up inside. Maybe I just made the wrong choice?


	50. Episode 13- Elliot

I'm twitchy at the game, waiting for Leon, like I had never bought drugs before. It's eating me up inside; Gideon's death. _How did I get here?_

Leon shows up and sits next to me. "Sup?" he greets and we make the exchange through a handshake. "Keep it careful with that dosage, cuz. I ain't your keeper and I damn straight ain't gonna be your reaper, neither, you dig? What problem you trying to solve anyway?"

"I'm fine," I lie.

"You know, that's what you always saying, man," he sniffs.

 _I know._ And then he's here, again. "So we're back to the morphine?" he sneers. "What's that going to accomplish?"

I don't answer Leon now that I'm distract. I get up and leave as though he can't follow. "It's Adderall and this is all your fault," I tell him. "Now it's time to get rid of you." I take about a dozen tabs of the Adderall. I remember swallowing them, but I don't remember coming home. I don't remember throwing up, but I'm on all fours, a pile of vomit in front of me and my fingers down my throat. _No, no, no._ I have to get rid of him. In a craze, I pick out the tabs and swallow them again, but he only makes me vomit them back up. Exhausted, I take them in small doses. Enough for a high, but not enough to die.

1010011010

It's been three days since I've slept and I'm discovering how amazing Adderall is. I'm focused and I feel great. He's gone and I can even handle talking to people. The days blur together and I'm getting so much done.

1010011010

I think it's day five and I was feeling good, but now it's back' the overwhelming fear building, burrowing, the nesting, the scream. My internal fatal error from which my system cannot safely recover. Kernel panic.

1010011010

Day number six without sleep. I'm crashing. Why did I ever think a drug could replace Tara? That panic isn't settling in anymore. It's just there. The scream in my mind is coming back. Any second now he will return and my mind will be under siege again.

1010011010

I'm at the diner, trying not to think about how badly I've crashed; the episode at church group was brutal. "I don't even listen to my imaginary friend, why should I listen to yours?" _What was I thinking? Well, that, but why did I say it?_

Ray sits down across from me. "Heard you had an interesting night," he says and puts my journal on the table. "Chaplain's an old friend," he adds as though that explains everything.

"I threw that out for a reason," I tell him.

"I figured you might want it for down the road," he shrugs. "Trust me I've been there. Five years, seven months, three weeks, two days ago, my wife passed away. Few weeks of being frozen I woke up, fixed myself breakfast like I normally do, plugged myself into my dialysis machine like I normally do, I started talking out loud. For a second I thought I was crazy and moved on. Then I did it again the next day and then next and then I realized who I was talking to."

I can't believe he's sharing this with me. I shift uncomfortably. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Cause you and me are a lot more alike than you think, Elliot," he gets up from the booth. "Come on."

I follow him to his office. I'm not sure why, but I sit down across from him. I keep my hood up and sink down into the seat. I'm not sure what to do, but I know curiosity made me follow him.

"Why did you start writing that journal in the first place?" he asks.

"I thought it was the right answer," I tell him.

"The right answer to what?"

I feel like I'm talking to Krista. "Controlling my life," I answer.

"My wife, well, she drove her car that day," he says. "She did everything right. She always wore her seatbelt, hands at 10 and 2. She was the most perfect driver I ever met. It was annoying. Stayed in the lines. Never when above or below the speed limit. Followed every rule. And one day none of that mattered. Control is about as real as a one legged unicorn taking a leak at the end of a double rainbow."

"Then what do we have?"

"You know that bullshit people say about getting back up if you fall?" he asks. "I reject that shit man. The whole thing is a fall. It can't help, but be. A perpetual state of grasping in the dark. It's not about getting up, it's about stumbling in the right direction. The only true way to move forward. Whoever it is you wrote about in your journal. Do you still see him?"

I shift in my seat, but say nothing.

"I can tell he meant something to you," Ray continues. "Sometimes he takes over? That's why you don't remember things?"

I know I shouldn't have come. "I don't want to talk about this." _Not to you._

"Yes you do," he presses. "Cause you're smart enough to know that keeping this inside isn't going to last."

 _He's right. Fuck he's right._ I stand up and make a run for the door. I need to find her. I stop at a pay phone and call her, but she doesn't pick up.

"This isn't Tara. Beep."

Hearing her voice calms me, slightly, but it's not enough. I realize I don't know the address of her new apartment, but I do know where Billy lives. He's lived in the same apartment since Tara met him and they kept in touch even when she was living with me. He would know where I could find her. I would get on my knees and beg her to take me back. I would apologize and tell her I love her and things would go back to normal. Things would be how they should and she would help me deal with him.

Some thug calls to me as I storm by him into the apartment building. "Yo whatcha doing here, bro?" he asks.

"I'm going to talk to Billy," I reply without looking at him. I walk up the second floor and bang on his apartment door.

The door pulls open and Billy is standing on the other side, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Can I help you?" he growls at me.

"I'm looking for Tara." I push into the room; something I had learned from Darlene.

"She's not here. It's none of your business where she is. Not anymore." He stands there with his arms crossed and if I wasn't so self-destructive I'd probably be scared.

"She's not answering her phone," I say.

"Not your problem." He takes a step closer. "You need to leave and stay away from Tara."

"Why?" I become offended. I'm not naïve enough to think they haven't started sleeping together again, but I would never let him steal her from me. "Don't pretend that you're in love with her when you're not."

"She knows I'm not, but we're friends and you hurt her. So leave before I hurt you."

A dog barking interrupts him. I recognize Flipper immediately as she yaps at my ankles. We both turn to see where Flipper had come from.

Tara is standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Um, did I leave my phone here?" she asks. It comes out barely more than a whisper.

 _Shit, how long has she been standing there?_ I begin to move towards her. More than anything I want to hold her, but she holds up a hand and I stop mid-step.

"Just. I need to find my phone," she says.

"I haven't seen it," Billy tells her. "But I'll try calling it."

The silence while we wait for Tara's phone to ring is unbearable. I occupy my attention with Flipper, knowing I'm the odd man out; that I shouldn't be there. Finally the other phone begins to buzz and Billy pulls it out of the couch, handing it to Tara.

"Thanks," she says.

I pretend I'm still more interested in Flipper, but I hear what Billy says next: "Do you want me to kick his ass?"

"No. I'm going to talk to him," she tells him and kisses his cheek which causes my blood to boil.

"You fuck with her again and I will kill you," Billy says. It's not a threat, but a promise.

Tara picks up Flipper's leash and tugs on my sleeve, indicating that I'm supposed to follow her from the apartment. We exit in complete silence. It's killing me. I want to tell her everything that's been draining me and pray that she still loves me enough to understand that I need her.

"Yo yo yo," the guy from earlier calls, but I think he's talking to Tara. "What's he doing? You good?"

"We're fine, Mac," Tara dismisses him. I should have known they were friends.

"What are you doing here, Elliot?" She finally addresses me.

"Looking for you," I tell her.

She seems pissed. "Yeah, I gathered that. Why?"

I need to keep her from walking away so I grab her arm, sliding my hand down to hers. "I am so fucking sorry. I am so sorry. I fucked up. I fucked up. I need you, Tara. I love you and I need you." The words spill out of me, not the way I wanted them to.

Tara pulls away, causing my stomach to plummet. "I love you, but I can't do this again Elliot. I'm sick of crying over you," she says.

"I need you." I can feel myself beginning to cry. This is not how it was supposed to go. "Please, Tara. I got lost, but I love you. Can I have another chance?"

She's digging her fingernails into the top of her hand, hurting herself.

I can't stand it and grab her again, prying her hands apart. "Stop that."

She stands there, staring at me.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, waiting for her to say something; anything.

"Okay," she says. "But we're starting over. I'm not just falling into you again."

It isn't what I want. I want to go home with her, hold her, talk to her, and be how we were. I gulp. "Coffee? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. See you then." She walks away, taking Flipper with her, without so much as a hug.

I watch her until she disappears. I wish I was still doing morphine.


End file.
